Rite of Passage
by Richefic
Summary: The sequel to I never liked Art in High School. Duncan's decision to take Richie to live in Paris may create more problems than it solves. Now complete.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer. The idea and the characters belong to D/P. But this Richie, Duncan and Tessa live in my universe. Everything after this point – definitely AU.

AN – First of all, many,_ many_, thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed or otherwise let me know, that they have enjoyed this so far. Your feedback really encouraged me to take another look at the story when I was about to give up on it. If you like the changes, the other chapters will follow as quickly as the chaos that is currently my life allows.

French bits - Lycee – French High School.

***

Richie Ryan put down his fork and stared blankly at the three sheets of the standard pro forma letter that announced his emancipation from Child Services.

"So I just sign on the dotted line huh? And I'm a fully fledged adult?"

"That's a matter of opinion." Duncan murmured.

"Funny Mac," Richie scowled.

"What Duncan is trying to say is that different cultures and societies have many ways of marking the passage to adulthood." Tessa explained.

"This isn't going to have anything to do with a rusty knife, is it?" Richie winced.

"You want to sleep with the vestal virgin," Duncan grinned. "You have to drink the goats milk."

"That doesn't sound too bad." Richie considered.

"Mixed with cows blood?" Duncan finished.

"Oh man," Richie made a face. "Well, I guess it beats going out into the woods to kill a tiger with your bare hands, or whatever rite of passage they had when you were a kid."

"There weren't a whole lot of tigers in Scotland." Duncan couldn't help but smile.

"So, how did you know when you were a man?" Richie inquired.

"Your father told you so." Duncan replied.

He kind of hoped Richie wouldn't pursue the point.

But of course, he did.

"So. How old were you when your father ..?" He left the question hanging.

"I was .." he muttered behind his hand.

Richie and Tessa exchanged an amused glance.

"What was that?" Tessa pressed. "We didn't quite hear you."

"I was twenty-five." Duncan admitted with a grimace. "I was a little hot headed when I was younger."

"Really?" Tessa smirked. "And this has changed how?"

"Now I am hot in other ways." Duncan smirked.

"I guess I don't gotta wait that long," Richie looked again at the letter. "How hard can it be to sign your name? I've been doing that since I was a little kid."

He had dreamed of this moment. Longed for its coming

So why did it make him feel so empty?

"Richie? Are you alright?" Tessa asked gently.

"Yeah. Sure." His voice sounded hollow to his own ears.

"You want to try that again?" Duncan asked mildly.

"Mac, hasn't anyone ever explained to you that evasive answers are supposed to_ be_ evasive?" Richie responded. "It's a way of getting around actually answering the question."

"You don't have to tell us if you don't want you." Duncan allowed.

"Well, good."

"But I think you need to."

For all his gift of the gab, Richie wasn't at all sure he knew how to put his feelings into words.

"Why did you change your age in the first place Rich?" Duncan nudged.

"Because I would get out of the system that bit faster, I wouldn't have social workers and the like trying to run my life." Richie said immediately. 

"But you do not feel this way now?" Tessa guessed.

"Its not the same," Richie bit his lip. "You guys have been the best thing that has ever happened to me. I wish .." he faltered. "But hey, no biggie. I mean, its not like that much will change, I'll still be coming to work here everyday and .."

"Hold on .." Duncan interrupted. "_Coming _to work?"

The expression on the Immortal's face told Richie everything he needed to know.

"You don't want me to move out." He realised.

"I always said you were bright." Duncan gave him a thin smile.

"Are you sure?" Richie looked askance at him. "I mean, I'm old enough, and I've never met anyone who needs their privacy as much as you guys."

"Trust me," Duncan said dryly. "After what you've already seen, we're all out of surprises."

"Speak for yourself." Tessa smiled impishly.

"See, that is _exactly_ what I mean." Richie waved a fork.

"Richie, I did not move from my parents home until I graduated from Art School." Tessa told him.

"Really?" Richie blinked.

"Art School in Paris is very expensive." Tessa shrugged. "It would have been very hard without my family to help me."

"Most of my friends got told to hit the road once they were eighteen," Richie shrugged. "'Course most of my friends didn't actually go to college."

"You still have time." Duncan murmured.

"Maybe," Richie looked up as the phone rang. "I'll get it. Someone needs to do some work around here."

"Your face," Tessa teased, once Richie was out of earshot. "You were imagining him in some nasty apartment, having wild parties with loose women, non?"

"He's only seventeen Tess," Absently, Duncan picked up the letter, which lay abandoned on the table. "I think, sometimes he forgets that."

"I wish there was something we could do." Tessa sighed.

"Maybe there is." Duncan mused.

***

Two days later, when the letter still lay unsigned on the kitchen table, Duncan was sure that they were doing the right thing.

Well, almost.

"I guess, I should do something with that." Richie eyed the letter over his eggs, as if it was a venomous snake.

"You don't have to." Duncan told him.

"I don't?" Richie looked at him. "Why don't I?"

"Because you have the right to get your life back," Duncan shrugged. "If that's what you want."

"I thought we had this conversation." Richie gave him a dark look. "There's a whole army of police officers and social workers and the like who are just gonna be lining up to put me in juvie and throw away the key if they work out how old I really am."

"I think you mean how young." Duncan corrected.

"Would it really be so bad?" Tessa put in.

"Well, I took my driving test a year early for starters." Richie told her. "I'm guessing that's not legal."

"I'm amazed you took a test at all." Duncan sipped at his coffee.

"Hey. I'm a good driver." Richie protested.

"And such a model citizen?" Duncan arched a brow.

"Do you know how much cash you can get on the streets for a genuine driving license?" Richie asked.

"Figures." Duncan grinned fondly at him.

"So, We're all cool with this, right?" Richie reached over and picked up the letter. "I just sign this thing and we go on as we are?"

"Well. We could." Duncan allowed. "Or we could find another solution."

"Mac," Richie said warily, "What are you thinking?"

"I was thinking we could move to Paris." Duncan told him.

"Paris?" Richie coughed on his orange juice. "Who was talking about Paris?"

"Duncan and I were actually," Tessa spoke up. "In Paris no-one would know you. We could be as a family."

"And you could be seventeen." Duncan told him.

"Mac, I've been seventeen. And if you want the truth .. its kinda overrated. None of the cool stuff kicks in until you are eighteen."

"But you are not eighteen." Tessa pointed out.

"It's a nice thought Tess. But its kinda too late to put the genie back into the bottle if you know what I mean?" Richie smirked.

"You could drink in Paris." Duncan decided to press the advantages. "And their film board's policy is a little more .. liberal."

"Really?" Richie looked interested.

"It's a cultural thing." Duncan grinned.

"But I don't speak French." Richie protested. "What would I do in Paris?"

"I don't know." Duncan teased. "What is it you do around here again?"

"Funny Mac."

"He could flirt with girls." Tessa joined in. "He is quite good at that."

"He could eat us out of house and home." Duncan added. "He has had a lot of practise at that."

"Maac." Richie whined.

"You could go to School." Duncan deadpanned.

"You don't want to do that." Richie warned. "I'm not a good student. I'm real annoying. I drive teachers nuts."

"There's something to look forward to." Duncan muttered.

"What?" Richie blinked.

"You do not have to go to un lycee." Tessa soothed. "It is allowed to leave school at sixteen. You could go to college."

"Are you gonna forge my SAT's as well?" Richie raised a brow. "Cos that's the only way I'm getting into college."

"Richie. Just because you missed a lot of High School, doesn't make you stupid." Duncan chided.

"No. It just feels that way." Richie looked away.

"This is not like an American College." Tessa took his hand. "This is a school for young people of many countries who come to Paris to learn French. I worked in such a place when I was a student. They have parties and trips and such things, as well as learning French. It is fun."

"And I don't have to take Math or PE?" Richie wanted to be quite sure of that.

"You like sport." Tessa looked confused.

"Most French kids do sport in clubs after school." Duncan guessed what Richie was thinking. "And they play soccer. Not football."

"No football?" Richie was relieved.

Duncan wondered if Richie's former foster father, with the quarterback fixation, had any idea of the trauma that he had inflicted on a gentle kid. It was a bloody good job he was already dead.

"And we'll talk about the Math." He added.

***

"Tessa, will you just relax?" Duncan looked up from stirring the soup. "He's going to love it."

"Maybe this is not a good time to give it to him," Tessa bit her lip anxiously as she tweaked a ribbon on the brightly wrapped parcel sitting on the counter.  "I do not want him to feel that we are pressuring him into making a decision."

"It's the perfect time," Duncan reassured her. "What better way to show him that we are serious about this?"

"OK, lunch is served," Richie bounded in and dropped a brown paper bag on the counter. "I got plain bagel, with salad for the lady, wholemeal bagel with cream cheese for the gentleman and carrot cake for me."

"Carrot Cake?" Duncan arched a brow. "With vegetable soup?"

"Carrots are vegetables." Richie wasn't fazed.

Duncan shook his head. "Get some plates."

"Who's the present for?" Richie asked casually, as he emptied the contents of the bag onto three plates.

"It is for you." Tessa told him.

"But I already had all my birthday presents." Richie protested.

"This is a different sort of anniversary." The Frenchwoman smiled.

"OK," Richie shot an uncertain look at Duncan.

"Well go on," the Immortal encouraged. "It won't bite you."

"I suppose that narrows it down a bit," Richie said doubtfully.

"Don't worry," Duncan tousled his hair. "Its not clothes."

"Duncan!" Tessa laughed.

"Are you sure? Cos you know, I only have those four pairs of gloves." Richie grinned.

"And the three scarves," Duncan joined in. "And how many hats was it?"

"Such things are easily lost." Tessa tried to protest.

"At the last count? Five," Richie smirked. "I think the fur ones are breeding."

"Be grateful she doesn't know how to knit." Duncan grinned.

"Actually, my grandmother taught me to knit." Tessa correctly loftily.

"She did?" Duncan pulled her close. "Is there no end to your talents?"

"That is for me to know and you to find out." Tessa murmured.

"Nice save Mac." Richie smirked. "For a minute there I could see tank tops in your future."

"What is a tank top?" Tessa enquired.

"Never mind," Duncan assured her hastily, throwing a mock glare at Richie. "You, shut up and open your present."

"Your wish is my command, oh lord and master." Richie laughed.

The small, silver, sculpture was made from three separate pieces of metal, which had been fused together to make one whole. In it, three figures, clearly representing Duncan, Tessa and Richie, stood facing one another, holding each other's hands, so that their arms made one smooth unbreakable circle.

"Duncan has made you part of our family in his way," Tessa spoke softly. "I wanted to do so in my own way."

"Oh Tess," Richie breathed. "Is that really how you see us?"

"We are a family, non?" Tessa kissed his cheek.

"That is so cool."

It wasn't clear if he meant the sculpture or the sentiment and it really didn't matter.

"You know," Richie swallowed. "I hear Paris is pretty nice at this time of year."

***

Since Richie didn't have any suitable photos, Tessa declared that she would take him to have his picture taken for his passport. The Immortal hid his smile as the teen spent a good half hour preening himself so he would look good.

Some things just had to be learnt by experience.

Sure enough.

"I don't see why we can't use one of the pictures from the photo album instead," he heard the teenager's voice complaining as they returned through the Store. "at least I look human in them."

"Because a passport is an official document, it needs an official photo." Tessa replied, with just a hint of exasperation.

"Tess, this passport is already making me a whole different person. That's not exactly legit."

"I take it he doesn't like his photo much?" Duncan greeted the pair as they came into the kitchen.

"That would be an understatement." Tessa kissed him.

"How am I supposed to compete with all those sophisticated French dudes." Richie complained. "I look like a geek."

"Let's see." Duncan held out a hand.

"I've had mug shots that make me look better than that." Richie passed it over.

"You know, they say if you actually look like your passport photo you are too ill to be travelling." Duncan bit back his grin. The lad looked about twelve.

"See?" Richie turned on Tessa. "I'm gonna die of embarrassment."

"Richie, no one will even see your passport, apart from a few seconds at customs." Tessa pointed out. "I'm sure your ego can stand it."

"Some of those customs people are of the female variety." Richie crossed his arms.

"Oh, for goodness sake," Tessa marched over to a kitchen drawer. "Here." She thrust the document into Richie's hands.

"Your passport?" Richie shook his head. "Tess, you always look gorgeous."

"Open it." The Frenchwoman commanded.

With a shrug Richie did so and burst into gales of laughter.

"Oh Tess! Your hair!" he spluttered.

"It was very fashionable at that time." Tessa tried to look prim, but the sparkle in her eyes betrayed her.

"You look like you have a poodle on your head." Richie chortled.

***

It only took Duncan a few moments to fix the photo into place and Richie's new passport was complete.

"There you go." He slid the document across the table to the waiting teen. "You're officially seventeen again. At least in France."

"That's one hell of a time difference." 

Richie opened the passport. "Jean Richard Ryan." He read. "You've given me a _girls name?"_

"_Jean." _Duncan corrected his pronunciation. "Its French. And it's a boy's name. The girl's version would be _Jeanne_."

"Oh yeah. That's a huge difference." Richie scoffed.

"But everyone calls you Richie." Tessa soothed.

"They'll ask fewer questions if they think you are a French national." Duncan told him.

"A French National? _Moi_?" Richie's jaw dropped.

"See. You're already getting the hand of the language." Duncan grinned.

"Mac. You're nuts. No scratch that. You are a whole bowl of muesli." Richie protested. "No one is ever going to believe I'm a French dude."

"You have lived in the States with your American mother since before you could talk." Tessa explained. "She was so angry with your father that she refused to teach you anything about French language or customs."

"Does that make you the other woman?" Richie teased.

"Your father fell in love with me after he had divorced your mother and returned to Paris." Tessa informed him loftily. "It was love at first sight."

"Remind me to tell you the true story one day." Duncan murmured. "She couldn't stand me."

"You're kidding, right?" Richie laughed.

"I did not wish him to think I was, what is it you say?"

"Easy?" Richie quirked a brow.

"Exactement." Tessa gave him an impish grin. "It is not good for a man to think a lady is too easily won."

"I'll try to remember that." Richie smiled.

"So. Are you OK with this?" Duncan asked carefully.

Richie bit his lip and looked down at the passport.

"Why did you skip town?" he asked quietly. "Didn't you want to stay near your kid?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Duncan caught Tessa's stricken expression. But he was far from surprised. Richie had spent his life defending himself against taunts about his absent father. It was only natural that he would think that way.

"Your mother never told me she was pregnant." Duncan explained.

"So, you didn't know anything about me?" Richie clarified.

"Rich, If I had known that you existed, I would have moved heaven and earth itself to find you." Duncan assured him.

It was obvious that he meant every word.

"You would really have looked for me if you'd known?" 

"If  I had had the slightest idea of what I was missing out on Rich .." Duncan swallowed.

"Well. Cool." Richie gave him a shy smile. "Or should I say alors, bien, I mean if we're going to go to Paris and all?"

"That is very good Richie." Tessa looked impressed.

"How did you learn that Rich?" Duncan asked, not without a hint of pride.

"Jeez." Richie looked smug. "Anyone would think I never listened to anything you guys say."


	2. Chapter Two

AN – OK, thanks to Southern Chickie, Arumlupi and Shady Lady for the reviews, I'm really glad you guys liked the changes! The sculpture _was an addition, Tessa started to make it in I never liked Art, but its taken her some time to finish it! This is a very (very) long chapter with some major additions including the much requested swimming lesson which, I left out after Southern Chickie posted her fun story "A Lesson Learned." So please review the changes and let me know what you think._

French bits – peut etre – maybe, bien sur – of course.

***

"I have the passports, the tickets, some francs, and some magazines, " Tessa checked her hand luggage. "Have I forgotten anything?"

"Blonde, annoying, about so high?" Duncan gestured.

"Duncan, Richie is much taller than that!" Tessa laughed. "He was here a moment ago. He is in his room, peut-etre?"

Duncan knew better. "No, I .. um .. just looked there." He lied.

"You did?" Tessa blinked. "But where can he be? We must leave soon. He knows this."

Duncan winced. All too well aware how the Frenchwoman would take the next piece of news.

"And his bike has gone."

"What! How can he do this?" Tessa's voice rose. "We will miss the flight!"

"Tess, we have two hours before we need to check in," Duncan soothed. "And there are other planes."

 "But this is a big step for us." Tessa worried. "I just want everything to be as it should."

"Sweetheart. This is Richie, we are talking about," Duncan smiled. "Nothing is ever quite as it should be."

"Don't you mean _Jean_?" Tessa smiled impishly.

"He is _not_ going to let us call him that." Duncan shook his head.

"He asked me if he would be expected to eat snails." Tessa giggled. "I think he was afraid that he would be offered them at customs as a test, to weed out American tourists who are posing as French nationals."

"At least you didn't get stuck trying to explain the difference between a croque madame and a croque monsieur." Duncan winced at the memory.

"Are we doing the right thing?" Tessa fretted. "To take him so far from what he has known?"

"Wasn't that the whole idea?" Duncan asked.

***

Two hours and ten minutes later Duncan was starting to get seriously concerned. He hadn't been able to track the lad down to any of his usual haunts

"Damn it Richie, where are you?"

Surely if it was an Immortal, they would have had word by now. He couldn't believe that there was an ER in this city that wouldn't recognise Richie on sight. And Powell would have been just bursting to tell them if the lad had been arrested.

Which meant he had to be somewhere he didn't usually go.

"You know, Mac," Richie greeted him, without turning.  "They have names for really old guys in trench coats, who hang around outside school gates talking to kids."

Duncan had a sudden, fierce urge to smack the boy, both for worrying them so needlessly, and being so damn clueless about it. Until he realised that someone else had beat him to it.

"What happened to your face?"

Richie reached up to touch the red, sore, mark on his cheek. "Lisa happened. She thought the whole, I'm not breaking up with you, I'm just moving to Paris thing, was a complete load of crock."

"Ah," Duncan winced sympathetically. "That must have been hard. Saying goodbye to your friends."

"Harder than you think," Richie pressed his lips together tightly. "Angie's away staying with her Aunt. Gary's been arrested and I haven't see Nikki or the others since before I moved in with you guys."

"So, what are you doing here?" Duncan asked lightly, slipping his arm around the lad. "Re-visiting your mis-spent youth?"

"Something like that," Richie swiped at his eyes. "You know, I don't think there's a High School in Seacouver I haven't been to."

"Likewise." Duncan said wryly.

"What?" Richie squinted at him.

"Rich, I've been looking for you for over two hours." Duncan told him.

"That long?" Richie blinked. "Oh man, the plane. We'll miss the plane."

"I already rang ahead and changed the booking," Duncan soothed. "I told them we had a family emergency."

"Oh, good." Richie nodded.

"So, do we?" Duncan nudged.

"What?" Richie blinked at him.

"Have a family emergency?" Duncan pressed.

"That depends," Richie looked over at him. "Did Tessa notice I was gone?"

"No." Duncan assured him.

"Really?" Richie was suspicious.

"Well, not until I told her." Duncan admitted sheepishly.

"Mac!"

"You were the one who missed the flight," Duncan defended himself. "You couldn't have kept an eye on the time?"

"Yeah, if I had bionic vision." Richie scoffed.

"What?"

"I left my watch on my dresser this morning," Richie waggled his empty wrist. "The strap broke."

"That's what you get for buying a watch from someone named Shifty." Duncan declared.

"Hey! That watch is a genuine fake Rolex!" Richie laughed.

 "When I was your age, we told the time by looking at the position of the sun."

"Mac, this is Seacouver, most times you can't even see the sun for the smog. That's why modern man invented watches."

"Doesn't do him much good when he leaves it lying on his dresser." Duncan observed.

"Yeah, well that's progress for you." 

***

Richie shot the Immortal a nervous glance as they both pulled up in the alley way behind the Store.

"Tessa's gotta be pretty mad that we missed the flight, huh?"

"Don't worry," Duncan assured as he got out of the car. "You've been gone so long she'll have completely forgotten that she was mad at you for making us miss the flight."

"You think?" Richie trailed after him.

"Yeah," Duncan gave him a tight grin. "She'll just be mad at you for worrying her by disappearing like that, instead."

Richie came to a dead stop as they entered the kitchen. The table was laden with cakes and cookies.

"Is this my punishment?" he swallowed.

"You know Tess," Duncan shrugged. "When she's worried she has to do something with her hands."

"She couldn't just have remodelled the bathroom or something?"

"These don't look so bad." Duncan picked up a muffin and took a bite. His face twisted.

"Mac?" Richie asked in concern.

"I think," Duncan managed. "That she's used salt instead of sugar."

"Mac? Is that you?" Tessa's voice called. "Did you find him?"

Duncan hastily pushed Richie into a chair and placed two or three chocolate chip cookies on his plate.

"These look like they're store bought." He assured the teen. "You'll be safe enough with them."

"But what about you?" Richie looked anxiously at the muffin lurking on Duncan's plate.

"I'll live." Duncan shrugged.

"Thanks Mac," Richie gave him a grateful smile. "I owe you one."

***

"Its not that I don't want to go." Richie looked from Duncan to Tessa as he nervously crumbled the cookie on this plate.

For all he'd actually eaten of it, Duncan reflected, he might as well have had the muffin.

"Its just .. France is a whole other country." Richie finished.

"Actually," Tessa spoke up. "That is not strictly true. Many areas such as Burgundy used to be .." she broke off. "What?"

"You've been spending too much time with Mac." Richie gave her the ghost of a smile.

"Oh," Tessa shook her head. "I'm so sorry Richie, its just I have been so looking forward to showing you my country."

"I know," Richie assured her. "And I'm excited. I am. I want to go up the Eiffel Tower and see Notre Dame and all those other places you've told me about. Its just .."

"Perhaps you are afraid of flying?" Tessa wondered.

"I know I am." Duncan muttered. "Bloody unnatural way to travel if you ask me."

"No, I'm not scared of flying, prone to travel sickness, worried about DVT, or allergic to garlic." Richie thought that covered all the bases. "Its just .. things are happening so fast. I mean, my foster parents once moved down the block and that took months to sort out all the removal people and stuff. This is a different continent."

"You thought it would take longer?" Duncan discreetly hid the remains of the muffin under his napkin.

"Long enough to get used to the idea. Instead, I'm been afraid to stand still, in case I got packed, or shipped, or stored or something."

"It is normal to be anxious," Tessa assured him. "When I first came to America, everything was new and strange."

"Except Mac," Richie smiled. "He was just old and strange."

"See how well you adapt?" Duncan offered. "Next to Immortals, Paris is really pretty normal."

"Yes, I did not take the news of Immortals nearly so well," Tessa made a face "And I found new manners and customs much more difficult to adopt than you have done."

"Nice try Tess," Richie smiled. "But I'm still not wearing a waistcoat."

"So, are we OK here?" Duncan asked.

 "I dunno, are all the ladies in France as pretty as Tessa?" Richie smiled.

"Oh, I think you are going to be just fine." Tessa laughed.

***

Richie had been in Paris for less than an hour when he realised that they hadn't been kidding about the new and the strange.

 "A boat?" Richie looked at the structure in question, floating just in front of Notre Dame. "We're going to live on a boat?"

"Actually, it's a barge." Duncan corrected as he climbed out of the car.

"But we can't," Richie reluctantly followed "I mean, Tessa got seasick just watching Titanic."

"We're a pretty long way from the sea here," Duncan smiled. "You'll hardly notice the tide."

"But a boat, I mean, that's gotta be a lot of work," Richie worried. "I mean, it could spring a leak, or flood, or sink, or anything, and then all of Tessa's nice things would be down there in the mud and the slime."

Duncan looked out over the water.

"Rich, Do you know how to swim?"

"Who me?" Richie looked up. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"You're not answering the question." Duncan noticed.

"That's because I don't want you to know what a wuss I am," Richie scrubbed at his face. "Its not like it matters. If I fell in there, the pollution would probably kill me."

"I could teach you. If you like." Duncan offered. "Although, maybe we could find a swimming pool. You might be right about the pollution."

"You don't have to." Richie looked away. "I mean, you gotta have a lot of other .. stuff … to do."

"Like what?" Duncan arched a brow.

"C'mon, Mac. You practically invented the work ethic. You gotta be planning on doing something while we are here."

"Yeah. I'm gonna spend time with my son." Duncan put a hand on his shoulder.

Richie stood silently for a moment, taking strength from the Immortal's open affection.

"I might not be very good .. I mean .. not at first." Richie said hesitantly.

Duncan was suddenly fiercely glad of the opportunity to prove his worth as a teacher to the lad.

"That's alright." He smiled kindly. "We can just take our time."

***

"This is your idea of taking our time?" Richie looked at the azure pool in disbelief.

"Its as good a time as any," Duncan shrugged. "Tess, will be tied up with those "suit types" he mocked gently, "at the museum until dinner. And if you believe for one second I'm even gonna think about attempting the unpacking without her there to supervise."

"How much room can there be to re-arrange stuff on a barge?" Richie wondered.

"You'll find out." Duncan said darkly.

"This sure doesn't look like the Y." Richie wandered over to inspect the gilded lions which stood guard at the poolside. "Are you sure the dude who owns it won't mind us using it?"

"I doubt it. Connor doesn't spend as much time in Paris as he used to."

"This is Connor's place?" Richie blinked, looking around at the ornate grandeur in disbelief. "Isn't it kinda .."

"Gaudy?" Duncan supplied helpfully. "I think it was a stage he was going through."

Richie looked nervously back at the pool. "It looks kinda deep."

"That's alright, we're only gonna be using the top bit." Duncan teased.

"Speak for yourself," Richie swallowed. "I'm thinking, sinking like a stone, here.

"I won't let you sink." Duncan assured him.

"Maybe, this isn't such a good idea," Richie hedged. "I mean, we came out of the water, right? Millions of years of evolution can't be wrong."

"Yeah," Duncan nodded. "And if you fall in you can just do what any self respecting 16th Century sailor would do."

"What's that?" Richie asked curiously.

"Drown."

"You're snowing me, right?"

"Nope," Duncan shook his head. "They felt that a quick death was better than swimming around for hours, with no hope of rescue, knowing that eventually you'd tire. Of course, they didn't know how unpleasant drowning can be."

"Not pretty?" Richie gulped.

"Not my favourite way to die." Duncan allowed.

"OK," Richie swallowed. "So, what do I have to do?"

"Well, it usually helps to get in the water."

"Right," Richie nodded determinedly and headed towards the steps.

"Um, Rich?" Duncan put in. "You might want to get changed first."

***

"I can do this," Richie swallowed, as he waded in waist deep. "I've seen people swimming loadsa times."

"Actually, its harder to sink than swim."

"It is?"

"Basic physics."

"See, that'll be the problem," Richie gave a nervous grin. "I never liked physics."

"That doesn't mean the laws don't apply to you," Duncan advised him. "But first, you need to relax."

 "Just like that?" Richie gave him a sceptical look.

"Sure," Duncan encouraged. "Just lean back."

"But then my feet will be off the floor." Richie objected.

"That is the general idea," Duncan encouraged. "Don't worry, I've got you."

Nervously Richie leant back, feeling his feet float up as Duncan's hands supported him under his shoulders.

"OK, now what?" he asked.

"Just relax." Duncan advised. "And get used to the water."

Richie lay there for a while, looking at the fresco, painted on the ceiling. This was kinda nice. But wasn't he supposed to be learning how to swim?

"Mac, I'm turning into a prune here."

"Yeah, but you're not sinking." The deep baritone came from in front of him.

Realising that Duncan was no longer holding on to him, Richie squeaked, tensed, and immediately began to sink.

"Easy." Duncan laughed, catching his arm before he head could go under and steadying him whilst he found his feet.

"What was that?" Richie demanded.

"That was you, swimming." Duncan told him.

"Mac, that was not swimming." Richie shook his head.

"What else would you call it?"

"Well, I wasn't moving for a start." Richie challenged. "And don't I have to put my face in the water or something?"

"Not in backstroke. All we have to do is get you to move your arms and legs a bit and you'll be swimming laps in no time." Duncan assured him.

"I will?" Richie looked pleased.

"Want to try it again?" Duncan encouraged.

"Sure," Richie enthused. "Just wait till I tell Tessa I was swimming."

"Yeah, maybe she'll bake you a cake." Duncan tousled his damp hair.

"Not funny Mac."

***

Duncan rolled over in bed. Beside him Tessa slept soundly, her even breathing a balm to his soul.

But something had woken him. Or rather, someone.

"And I'll warrant you'll no have thought to put on a coat." Duncan muttered.

Sure enough, the teen sat huddled in the brow of the barge, in a thin T-shirt, his arms wrapped around himself against the autumnal chill.

"Do I need to add sleep walking to your list of talents?" Duncan draped the warm blanket across his shoulders.

Richie gave him a brief, grateful, look, before returning his gaze to the water.

"I'm guessing that only counts if I've actually been to sleep?"

"Want to talk about it?" Duncan sat down beside him.

Something that might have been a smile flickered at the edge of Richie's mouth. "Would it make the slightest difference if I said no?"

"Well, it might take a little longer .." Duncan slipped an arm around him.

"Its not much like Seacouver is it?" Richie surveyed the Paris skyline. "Has it changed a lot? Since you were first here?"

"Well, they didn't have a MacDonald's," Duncan shrugged. "Although, there was this little brothel …"

"The one with the redhead?" Richie smirked

"I should never have given Connor our e-mail address." Duncan muttered darkly.

"Is it true that you didn't learn to read until you were fifty or something." Richie asked quietly.

"Or something," Duncan agreed. "I didn't get much schooling when I was a lad. Somehow, just surviving seemed more important."

"I tried to keep up my grades," Richie said quietly. "I used to do my homework in the bus station, or at the mall. But, I guess I just couldn't cut it."

"Cold and hunger will dull the sharpest of wits." Duncan murmured.

"Yeah, and telling a teacher that a wino ate your report is a one way ticket to a failing grade. I told you. Teachers hate me."

"Rich, if you don't want to go back to school, just say so. We don't have to do this."

"This is like some reverse psychology thing, isn't it?" Richie shot him a dark look.

"Not at all. Its your life Rich. The way I see it, my job is to give you choices and opportunities, what you decide to do with them is up to you."

"Are you saying you won't be the least bit disappointed in me if I don't make the most of them?" Richie demanded.

"Disappointed _for you maybe." Duncan allowed. "You didn't fail Rich. You were failed by those who were supposed to help and protect you. You deserve your chance. But hey, if you want to wait until you're fifty, I'm not going anywhere."_

"No," Richie gave him an affectionate look. "I guess not."

He paused.

"You know they say teenagers hit their sexual peak when they're eighteen."

"Really." Duncan said drly.

"Yeah, maybe, I shouldn't wait until I'm fifty. That way I can enjoy the whole range of .. extra curricular .. opportunities." Richie waggled his 

eyebrows.

"Then you'd better make sure you know the French for Drugstore." Duncan advised.

"Maac!" Richie blushed.

***

Duncan endured the teen's monosyllabic responses all through breakfast and could hardly get a word out of him in the car. Finally, he could stand it no longer.

"You're going to have to tell me," he said as he parked the T-Bird in front of the School. "Because last night I thought you were fine with this?"

"You couldn't have found out how old I was just a few weeks earlier?" Richie gave him a sour look.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Tessa frowned.

"I wouldn't just have missed the first few weeks of school, that's what."

"Rich, this is an International Language College. They have new people coming and going all the time. It's not like High School." Duncan reassured.

"Are you sure about that? Cos, I had to transfer mid-year a couple of times when I was in High School and I'm telling you, it majorly sucked."

"A couple of times?" Duncan raised a brow.

"I probably shouldn't have mentioned that, huh?" Richie made a face. "Just forget I said anything. Ever."

"What happened?" Tessa asked.

"Well, I could tell you that I was in the witness protection programme. But then I'd have to kill you." Richie evaded with a nervous grin.

"Or you could just tell me the truth." Duncan suggested.

"I didn't exactly do anything the first time," Richie sighed. "I got moved to a new foster home and it was right across town, so they put me in a new school."

Duncan hid a frown. Usually the authorities were reluctant to pull children out of familiar environments, unless there was a pressing reason to do so. He wondered what Richie wasn't saying.

"It was after Teresa had tried to adopt me," Richie sighed. "I guess they thought it would be easier, a clean break, a fresh start. All that."

"And the second time?" he asked.

Richie looked genuinely uncomfortable.

"I got arrested. Could we please not get into that right now?" he looked anxiously around at the other students milling around the parking lot.

Duncan caught Tessa's eye and she shook her head. Perhaps some things were better not discussed in public.

"You know, we should probably go get you registered," Duncan said, as if the idea had just occurred to him. "Before there's too much of a queue."

"I thought I was supposed to be the one learning the language?" Richie demanded. "Americans get in line, they don't queue."

"Ah, but we are in Europe now," Duncan looked smug. "And they queue. Actually, I think it's a national sport or something."

Tessa stood on tiptoe, seeking out the hall marked registration. Her face fell.

"What?" Duncan asked.

"I told you we should have got here earlier." She sighed.

***

He hadn't been wrong about the length of the wait, Duncan reflected. Richie began to look increasingly anxious, as if he expected Interpol to emerge out of the woodwork at any second.

"Will you calm down?" He asked out of the side of his mouth. "You're attracting attention."

"Just because you've done this before .." Richie hissed.

Something in Duncan's demeanour made him pause.

"You _have_ done this before, right?"

"Not exactly." Duncan murmured.

"Not exactly .." Richie raised his voice, bringing it swiftly back to a whisper when people turned to stare. "What do you mean, _not exactly?"_

"I've never had to do this for a minor before." Duncan admitted. "It's .. more complicated."

"Oh great. Just great." Richie threw up his hands. "You know we're gonna get deported don't you?"

"We are_ not_ going to get deported. Just keep your mouth shut, and say what I told you to say, and we'll be fine."

"How can I say what you told me to say if I'm keeping my mouth shut?" Richie huffed.

"Just let me do the talking, alright?" Duncan clarified as they reached the table.

"Nom?" The woman demanded.

In response, Richie crossed his arms and looked Duncan.

The Immortal sighed. This was not a good beginning.

Fortunately, the paperwork produced no unexpected surprises. Duncan was able to produce all the mandatory scholastic records and medical information, Tessa found one of the spare passport photos in her wallet for the ID card and Jean Richard Ryan was duly enrolled.

"So, when do your classes start?" Tessa looped her arm through his.

"How should I know?" Richie peered at his schedule. "This is all in French."

"Let me see?" Tessa offered.

"S'OK. I can work it out." Richie shoved it in his rucksack. "Later."

Tessa sighed, 

"Rich, if you need help .." Duncan tried.

"I can handle it," Richie assured him "I mean, I managed to make it all the way through Elementary School, without anyone noticing that I couldn't actually read. This can't be so different from that, right?"

"What!" Duncan and Tessa exclaimed.

"Geez guys. Your faces," Richie laughed. "Even my childhood wasn't that tragic."

"You know Tessa, we still haven't discussed what his allowance should be." Duncan gave a feral grin.

"Ah, in France it is the custom that the parents pay very little." Tessa hid her smile.

"What!" Richie squeaked.

"And I'm sure we can find him a few chores around the barge." Duncan added.

"A few?" Tessa quirked a brow. "It is a very big barge."

"Guys!" Richie protested. "C'mon. It was just a joke. You can take a joke, right?"

***

"Shouldn't Richie have been home from School by now?" Duncan looked at the clock.

"You don't think he has got lost?" Tessa frowned.

"Well, I don't think he's gone to the library," Duncan grinned. "Unless, of course, he's met a study partner."

"That is not what he is supposed to be studying." Tessa giggled.

"I dunno," Duncan kissed her. "Its bound to expand his .. vocabulary."

"Perhaps, you should go and look for him?"

Duncan tilted his head at the sound of a car engine approaching. He crossed to the window in a couple of strides.

"Do you know anyone with a Renault 5?" He asked.

"I don't think so,"

"Well, it seems Richie does."

"He got a ride home from School and he is still so late?" Tessa smiled. "Is she pretty?"

"I couldn't be sure from this distance, but I think she looks like a man."

"Duncan, that is unkind!" Tessa scolded. "She may be a very nice girl."

"Who's a very nice girl?" Richie asked as he bounded into the barge. "And when do I get to meet her?"

"Who's your friend?" Duncan asked.

"His name is Marc. He's like the only person I met today who could actually speak English. 

"So much for his vocabulary." Tessa murmured.

"So, how was School?" Duncan asked.

"Aren't you supposed to fetch me the milk and cookies first?" Richie scowled. "I turned up to all my classes, I copied down my homework and I didn't get a detention, satisfied?"

"Fine," Duncan said mildly. "But what I was actually wondering was if you had a good time?"

"Oh. Sorry," Richie made a face. "Bad reflex, huh?" 

"So, did you?" Duncan let it go.

"Um, yeah, actually," Suddenly Richie looked uncharacteristically shy. "You know this place does like clubs and societies and things?"

"Uh huh." 

"Well, they have a fencing club. Only, if you are under eighteen, you gotta have your parents permission." Richie looked awkward. "I'm guessing that's you."

Duncan swallowed hard.

Every one of his instincts, honed over four centuries, told him that it was not a good idea to put a sword in the hand of a pre-immortal. It attracted entirely the wrong sort of attention.

"So. Is it OK?" Richie tried not to look too hopeful.

On the other hand, his son never asked him for anything before.

"Where do I sign?"

The brilliant smile that blossomed across Richie's face was echoed by Tessa's approving look.

"Thanks Mac. You're the best."

"You wear all the right stuff and you do exactly as you are told, understood?" Duncan instructed.

"Absolutely, positively." Richie nodded.

"A sword is not a toy," Duncan reminded him. "I want your word on this, Tough Guy."

"I promise." Richie grinned. "I gotta go call Marc."

"Marc?" Tessa asked. "But you have only just this minute parted."

"He's the guy at School who told me about the club," Richie explained. "He's been fencing for ages. He's got cups and things."

"I thought this was a social club?" Tessa frowned. "You did not say you would be fighting duels."

"They're competitions Tess. Not duels. They have rules and everything." Richie explained.

"It'll be safe enough, Sweetheart." Duncan assured her. That was the least of his worries. "These things are very carefully controlled."

Richie shot him a grateful look for his support.

"Can I e-mail Connor as well?" Richie begged.

Duncan winced. He was sure his kinsman would have a few choice words to say on the matter.

"Just remember, your phone bill comes out of your allowance!"

"Whatever." Richie paused. "You know, you're shaping up into a pretty good Dad."

"Go," Duncan shook his head fondly. "And don't slam the door." He called after him.

"That was a good thing you just did." Tessa complimented him.

"He was pretty happy, wasn't he?" Duncan's smile faded slightly.

He fervently hoped that it was not an indulgence that he would live to regret.

***

For those who don't know, a croque is a sandwich made from French toast, cheese, and ham, and the difference between a croque monsieur and a croque madame is that the latter has a fried egg on it!


	3. Chapter Three

AN – What can I say? I got bored just revising old stuff! Please review, I need feedback!

***

Duncan scowled at the chess board, moved a piece, frowned, changed his mind, and moved it back again.

"Why do you not just go and ask him how he is getting on?" Tessa murmured, without looking up from her magazine.

"He'll think I've no faith in him." Duncan shook his head.

"_Do_ you think he can do this?" Tessa arched a brow.

"He can't manage more than a mumbled sentence when he's talking to you and I," Duncan pointed out tersely. "I can't think his fluency is going to be improved by standing up there in front of a class full of virtual strangers, do you?"

"His French is not so bad," Tessa protested. "And he has a dictionary."

"He didn't tell you what the report was about, did he?" Duncan realised. "Trust me, his vocabulary is the least of his problems."

"Oh, no!" Tessa put her hand to her mouth. "They wish him to talk about his childhood?"

"Apparently, they think it'll help the students understand each other's background and cultures," Duncan rubbed at his face. "Usually, I'd agree. But I don't think B and E 101 was exactly what they had in mind."

"Oh Mac," Tessa looked worriedly at him. "This was supposed to be a fresh start for him. He should not have to carry this with him."

Duncan looked at her from a long moment.

"No. Indeed he should not." He vowed.

"Mac?" Tessa asked warily. "What are you thinking?"

 "That you, Tessa, sweetheart, are a genius." Duncan gave her a quick kiss, before bounding up and heading towards Richie's room. At the top of the steps he paused and turned back sheepishly towards her.

"Um. I still need an excuse to go in there though."

"There's some chocolate cake in the kitchen." Tessa offered.

"There is?"

"I hid it in the oven." Tessa smiled. "I did not wish Richie to eat the whole thing at once."

"The oven," Duncan nodded to himself. "Of course, no one would think of looking for a cake in the oven in this house."

***

"Rich," Duncan popped his head around the door of the teenager's cabin, only to draw it back hastily as something flew through the air.

"Merde," Richie swore fluently. "Sorry, Mac." He apologised as the Immortal stepped into the room.

"For swearing at me? Or trying to behead me with a …" Duncan picked up the missile. "dictionary?"

"I wasn't swearing at you." Richie protested.

"You shouldn't be swearing at all." Duncan scolded.

"I was delirious," Richie had caught sight of the chocolate cake in his other hand. "Low blood sugar or something."

"Here," Duncan passed it to him. "I should make you ask for it in French."

"Je voudrais le gateau, s'il vous plait." Richie surprised him.

"That's great Tough Guy." Duncan praised him. "Although, with family, you can say s'il te plait. When did you learn that?"

"What do you think I've been doing for the past two hours?" Richie glared at the dictionary Duncan was still holding. "I've practically memorised that thing. Most of the words I need aren't even in there."

Duncan saw his opening.

"So, what have you written?" he asked casually.

"Crap." Richie slumped in his seat.

"Richie .." Duncan warned.

"You don't believe me? You read it." Richie thrust the crumpled paper into his hands.

"My name is Jean Richard Ryan," Duncan read in French. "But everyone calls me Richie. I am seventeen years old and I still have all my own hair and teeth. I was born in Seacouver, Washington State, USA., where I lived all my life until now. Seacouver is a cool city, with a beach and parks and mountains. My hobbies are motorcycles and dating girls who think I'm cute." He looked up. "What's wrong with that?"

"I have to talk for two minutes, that's what." Richie groused. "Do they even have a word for Juvie in French?"

***

"You told him that he could make something up?" Tessa looked shocked.

"It seemed only fair." Duncan shrugged. "Or shall we tell your parents that the man they think is an Antique dealer from Scottsdale, is in fact a 400 year old Scottish warrior?"

"Its not the same." Tessa protested weakly.

"Isn't it?" Duncan chased his advantage. "We want him to make a fresh start. To have the chance to enjoy being part of our family. We've come this far. Why not let him be exactly who he wants?"

"Because he will decide to an international spy or some other such nonsense." Tessa scoffed fondly.

"I think you'll be surprised." Duncan murmured.

"But should we be encouraging such a thing?" Tessa worried. "We want him to feel safe to share things with us. Not feel that he has to hide his past."

"Maybe, if he feels confident that he can trust us to keep his secrets, like he keeps ours, he'll be more willing to confide in us."

"You speak for yourself Duncan Macleod." Tessa said loftily. "I have no secrets."

"Oh no? So what are all those carrier bags at the back of our wardrobe?" Duncan teased.

"They are just a few small things." Tessa smiled impishly.

"How small?" Duncan asked huskily.

"Would you like to see?" Tessa took his hand.

"Um," Duncan swallowed hard.

"Is this a bad time?" Richie's voice asked.

"Yes," Duncan shot over Tessa's shoulder with a grin.

"Duncan!" Tessa slapped him on the chest. "Have you finished your report?"

"No, I just came to tell you Conner sent an e-mail, but its all Greek to me, so I'm guessing its for you."

Duncan's heart sank. It stood to reason that Connor would not have taken the news of Richie taking up fencing at all well. It probably wasn't wise to keep him waiting for a response as well.

"Um," he looked at Tessa.

"Go," she shooed. "I can contain myself for a few moments."

"Yes, but can I?" Duncan murmured with a smile.

"And that'll be Gaelic, not Greek, you young heathen." He cuffed Richie lightly as he passed.

***

In fact, it _was_ Greek, since his teacher was presently on the island of Kos. The e-mail made Connor's disapproval of Duncan's decision quite clear. Knowing the Hotel that the elder Scot favoured when he was there Duncan steeled himself and picked up the phone.

"What were you thinking?" Connor's ire was immediately clear.

"What was I supposed to tell him?" Duncan demanded. "You can't play with the nice swords right now laddie, because you're going to have to learn how to kill with them later?"

"A simple no would suffice." Connor said dryly.

"This is Richie we're talking about," Duncan reminded him.

"And you're his father. Its your job to say him nay, when his welfare is at stake." Connor retorted.

"Its one thing to keep him from a broadsword or the like," Duncan argued. "Even in Richie's old neighbourhood, the lad wouldn't see anyone pulling a blade like that from their coat pockets. It's a different thing when he sees youngsters his own age taking part in the sport."

"What we do is no sport."

"And Richie's not one of us yet. Perhaps you'd like me to explain to Tessa why our lad can't do as his friends do?" Duncan played his trump card.

"You've had cold showers before." Connor wasn't moved.

"Never out of choice," Duncan shivered. "Lord knows, Connor, its not as if I'm planning to spar with the lad."

"You weren't going to put him to the sword either." Connor snorted.

"So, are you pursuing business or pleasure?" Duncan asked, with an edge of concern for his mentor.

"I'm not head hunting Duncan," Connor assured him. "But I am here on business, busts to be exactly."

"Sounds like pleasure to me." Duncan smirked.

"Greek busts, Duncan." Connor rolled his eyes. "Classic sculpture?"

"There's some nice marble in Paris." Duncan invited obliquely.

"The young hellion proving a bit of a handful is he?" Connor chuckled. "You need Uncle Connor to come and keep him in line?"

"Its not that," Duncan paused. "Its just .. he's still young Connor, a few weeks seems like an eternity. In a year or so he'll barely remember you. I want him to know his family, in case .. you know."

"Aye," Connor didn't tell him that nothing could happen to him. They both knew that wasn't true. "I know. I'll not be a stranger Duncan."

***

Duncan paused as he saw the light burning under Richie's door. Worried that the lad was still fretting about his paper at this late hour, he put his head around the door.

Only to break into a rueful smile.

Richie had fallen fast asleep at the desk, his head pillowed on his arms.

"Its been a long couple of days for you hasn't it lad?" he murmured fondly.

Slipping one arm around his back and another under his legs Duncan lifted him easily onto the bed, prising the blankets out from under him and slipping off his shoes and socks, he had moved on to unbutton his shirt before he realised Richie was watching him through one eye.

"I usually expect dinner and a movie." He blinked sleepily.

"I made you dinner." Duncan teased.

"So you did, which reminds me," Richie rolled over and pushed himself to a sitting position. "I _really_ need to go and brush my teeth."

"Remind me to introduce you to Garlic ice-cream one day." Duncan laughed.

"Savoury ice-cream? That's gross Mac," Richie levered himself up. "Back in a sec."

While he was gone Duncan busied himself picking up the odd pieces of dirty laundry that were scattered around and straightened up the bed so the lad wouldn't be sleeping on wrinkles. His eye fell on the report.

"Did you finish your homework?" he asked without turning.

He grinned as he imagined the frustration on Richie's face. The teen prided himself on his ability to move soundlessly and it irked him that he could never sneak up on the Immortal. To give him his due, he'd been as quite as a mouse. Duncan hadn't _heard him return. Still, it didn't hurt to keep him on his toes._

"You gotta check I crossed all my ts and dotted all my is?" Richie asked, the edge of his irritation at being caught still evident in his voice, as he climbed into bed.

"If you like." Duncan agreed easily.

Richie gave him a suddenly, vulnerable, look.

"You really wouldn't mind reading it? Cos, I mean, its kinda long and I know its late and you don't have to .." he babbled.

"Give it here .."

***

"So, had he invented a wild and wonderful past for himself?" Tessa smiled as Duncan settled down beside her.

"Not unless you think having a French step-mother and a Scottish father is particularly exotic." Duncan shrugged. "And as I recall that was our idea."

"Nothing?" Tessa was surprised.

"Tess, the picture he painted was so _normal I half expected to see the lad wearing a bow-tie with creases in his jeans."_

"That is not normal." Tessa giggled.

"Although, he does have a hidden talent."

"Mac." Tessa asked warily. "We do not need to have the Principal on the phone because Richie is teaching the other children how to get free sodas out of the drinks machines."

"I didn't know he could do that." Duncan raised a brow.

"This is something else?"

"Oh yeah, this is definitely something else." Duncan sighed.

"What happened?"

"How was I supposed to know? He never gave me any clue."

"What did you do?" Tessa asked resignedly.

_ "My hobbies are motorcycles, pop music and .. chess?" __Duncan__ read. He looked up in surprise. "I didn't know you could play chess."_

_"You think I'm making it up?" Richie challenged. "Cos, you can ask Darius if you don't believe me."_

_"Richie, I never said I didn't believe you. I was just surprised." __Duncan__ defended himself_

_"Yeah, right." The teenager hunkered down in the blankets with a definite sulk. "Surprised at someone like me being able to play chess."_

_"Did I ever mention I was a trapeze artist once?" __Duncan_ asked casually.__

_Richie's jaw dropped._

_"You .. I mean .. in those tights and sequins and all?"_

_"What?" __Duncan__ pretended offence. "You don't think I have the body to carry it off?"_

_"I never said that." Richie protested, sitting up a bit._

_"So, I'm not athletic enough? I don't have the co-ordination? What?"_

_"Mac, I didn't mean you wouldn't make a great trapeze artiste, the best," Richie assured him, leaning forward. "I was just .." he trailed off in realisation._

_"Surprised?" __Duncan__ enquired mildly._

_"Yeah, that." Richie gave him a rueful grin. "Alright, I get it."_

_"Get what?" __Duncan__ asked innocently._

_"You're not gonna make me say it?"_

_"Yep." __Duncan__ gave him a tight grin._

_"OK, just because I was surprised, didn't mean I thought you couldn't do it." Richie rolled his eyes._

_"Ditto." __Duncan__ ruffled his hair._

 "I wonder who taught Richie to play chess?"

"Grandpa Jensen," Duncan told her promptly. "One of his foster mother's had her father living with them."

"He actually told you this?"

"He was pretty tired," Duncan grinned. "And I think the whole trapeze arts thing knocked him for six."

 "Yes." Tessa smiled. "You have not mentioned this before?"

"I'll have you know I was very good."

"I'm sure." Tessa murmured, with a speculative look.

"What?" Duncan asked.

"Do you still have the outfit?"


	4. Chapter Four

"You remember that I will be out all day today at that meeting with the Gallery Curator?" Tessa asked, the next morning, over breakfast.

"You'd better take the car," Duncan spoke from behind his newspaper. "Looks like rain later on."

"_Looks_ like rain?" Richie grinned around a mouthful of toast. "Is that some kind of medieval radar?"

"Actually, its science." Duncan retorted, turning the paper so Richie could see the page with the weather forecast.

"I didn't think science had been invented when you were a barn." Richie groused, good naturedly.

"That's bairn laddie." Duncan corrected. "As well you know."

"Whatever." Richie gulped his coffee and stood up, looking for his backpack.

"Maac." He grumbled.

"Its in the closet." Duncan told him. "Where it should be."

"It should be where I left it. Then I'd know where it is."

"You want a ride to School?" Duncan offered, folding up his newspaper and putting it aside.

"You don't have to," Richie looked awkward.

"I know I don't have to, I want to." Duncan said kindly.

"No, I mean you don't have to," Richie explained, "Marc's gonna swing by and pick me up."

"Oh, well. Good." Duncan tried to swallow his disappointment.

"This Marc is a safe driver, yes?" Tessa wanted to be sure.

"Sure Tess," Richie assured her. "He's had his licence for ages."

"Ages?" Duncan looked amused. "Is that six months, or a whole year?"

"Funny Mac," Richie rolled his eyes. "Ages as in nineteen, and the poster boy for Mr Responsible."

"He is so much older than you?" Tessa frowned. "He is not a student?"

"A year, isn't so much .." Richie shrugged. "He's working as a Teaching Assistant, apparently he missed out on some Sports Scholarship thing, or something this year, so his Dad's making him do this, until he makes the grade." Richie looked up at the sound of the approaching Renault. 

"So, how did you meet him?" Duncan asked.

"His car broke down in the car park," Richie shrugged, heading towards the door. "I fixed it."

"Good luck, with your paper." Tessa called.

"He doesn't need luck," Duncan flashed a grin at the teen. "It's a literary masterpiece."

"Thanks Mac," Richie smiled. "Bye Tess." And he was gone.

"He had to fix this car?" Tessa frowned, as the Renault's engine screeched in protest, as its driver changed gear and pulled away.

"If Richie fixed it, it'll stay fixed." Duncan reassured her.

"Yes," Tessa wrinkled her brow. "But there are so many other parts which may also go wrong."

***

Richie grinned happily, as he stuffed his paper into his backpack and joined the jostling crowd of students, heading for lunch.

"So, how did your paper go?" Marc fell into step beside him.

"Julia Chan, thinks my accent is sexy," Richie boasted, with a grin. "She asked me out."

"So, I take it, you didn't embarrass yourself, by falling off the stage, mis-pronouncing some perfectly innocent word, so that you, in fact, invited the entire class to look at you naked, or any other of your nightmare premonitions?" Marc teased.

"Not even close," Richie beamed. "I got a A."

"That's great Rich," Marc grinned. "Your Dad's gotta be pretty pleased with that, huh?"

"Yeah," That thought made Richie feel warm inside. "He will, won't he?"

"Ah," Marc paused, looking at something up ahead. "Mine, on the other hand, is gonna be royally pissed, if he catches me chatting to you, before I've finished cleaning all the equipment for this afternoon."

"How will he know?" Richie wondered.

"Didn't I say?" Marc glanced over at him. "He teaches here and _he _runs the Fencing Club."

"No wonder you're so good." Richie gave a rueful grin.

"If that held true, I wouldn't have flunked French History," Marc made a face. "Not my most shining hour."

"He teaches History?" Richie laughed. "You'll have to get him together with Mac, he's a real History buff."

Marc gave him an odd look. "How come you call your Dad by his first name?"

"Its more of a family nick-name," Richie hedged. "And, I haven't lived with him that long. He's cool about it."

"My Dad would freak," Marc shook his head. "_Young people need to know their place." He mimicked. "Whoa, he's coming. Gotta go, later, OK?"_

He ducked back into the crowd so quickly, that he missed the way that all the colour had drained from Richie's face. It couldn't be. Could it?

"Was that my son Marc, I just saw you talking to?"

The brown oxford brogues that came into Richie's field of vision were not remotely familiar.

But he would have known that voice anywhere.

Taking a deep breath, he looked up to meet ice blue eyes.

"Hello, Dad."

***

Richie shivered inside his jacket, as he cast a baleful look at the overcast sky, it didn't look like the driving rain was going to let up anytime soon.

"I suppose this is some kinda cosmic punishment for cutting class, huh?" He muttered, to no-one in particular.

Turning his collar up, he dug his hands into his pockets, and squelched another couple of blocks in his sodden sneakers. Swearing fluently, when a passing car sent a wave of cold, wet, spray, in his direction.

"Great, just great!"

He blinked hard at the sudden, fierce burning behind his eyes. So, he was cold and wet and he had at least another three hours before he could reasonably be expected home from School. That didn't mean that he was gonna cry.

Ducking into a nearby doorway, he caught sight of the simple stone Church across the road and brightened slightly. Well, maybe someone was on his side.

At least it would be dry.

He wasn't sure how long he had spent, huddled miserably in the plain wooden pew. Although the Church provided shelter from the rain, it didn't boast such luxuries as heating, unless you counted the candles, which Richie did not, and the cold of the stone walls seemed to seep into his soul.

"Can I be of any assistance?" The priest's gentle enquiry made Richie jump.

"Um, sorry," he apologised, blushing at how he had dripped all over the floor and the seat. "I'll get out of your way."

"You don't have to," the priest held up a placating hand. "I just wondered if I could be of any help?"

"That depends," Richie made a face. "Do you speak English? My French isn't that good yet."

"My English may not be that good either," The priest switched languages with a smooth fluency, that belied his depreciating words. "But we can muddle along."

Richie hesitated. "Can I talk to you? Like you were a priest?"

"Since I am a priest, I think that would be acceptable." He smiled kindly.

"Its kinda a moral dilemma type thing." Richie admitted.

"Ah," the priest nodded. "Would this have to do with why you are not in School?" he arched a brow.

"Not exactly," Richie shrugged. Then shot the priest an anxious look. "Um, should it?"

"Why don't you just tell me what brings you here?"

"Aren't you supposed to say something first?" Richie wondered. "Like bless me and stuff?"

"You want to make confession?" the priest looked mildly surprised.

"That makes it secret, right?" Richie clarified. "You can't tell anyone. Even if I'd killed someone, which I haven't, I mean there was this guy in Seacouver, but he wasn't dead .. not really ..."

"What if I give you my word that this will be just between the three of us?" the Priest soothed.

"Three?" Richie squeaked, looking anxiously behind him.

"Ah, I meant, you me and Him." The priest nodded at the altar. 

"Oh," Richie realised. "Well, its kinda like this .."

***

"What do you think you should do?" the Priest asked when he was finished.

"That's your idea of advice?" Richie gave him a look. "I thought you guys were supposed to have divine inspiration or something."

"What are you most afraid of?" the priest pushed gently.

Richie looked around and took strength from the ancient stillness of this Holy place.

"That Mac won't want me around anymore." He managed.

"And if you tell him of this, do you think he will reject you?"

"Its happened before." Richie admitted.

"But you have already said that this Mac, is not like other men." The priest nudged.

"Ain't that the truth." Richie managed a fleeting smile.

"Do you trust him?"

"With my life," Richie said instantly. The Immortal would protect him, he knew that, no matter what.

"But not your soul?"

Richie took a sharp, shuddering breath. "I'm afraid of loosing his friendship, his good opinion, Mac doesn't choose his friends lightly. I don't want to be a disappointment to him."

"And what do you think is most likely to cause that to happen?"

"If I lie to him." Richie realised.

"So, now what do you think you should do?" the priest smiled.

"If I don't tell him, I'll definitely loose him." Richie made a face. "If I do tell him, I only might loose him."

"And if someone came to your friend with a problem, would him blame them for their foolishness, or would he do his utmost to help him?" the priest asked mildly.

"Oh Mac would help," Richie nodded. "He's a real Knight in shining armour type."

"If he will do as much for a stranger, why would he do any less for one that he loves?" the priest enquired.

"I never said that Mac loves me." Richie looked away.

"Indeed, you did." The priest gave him a knowing glance. "Every time you speak of him."

***

Duncan looked up in surprise at the faint buzz of a pre-immortal. Richie wasn't due home from School for a good few hours yet.

"Mac," the teen hovered in the doorway, white as chalk, and seemingly oblivious to the rivulets of water pouring off him onto the floor.

"Richie," Duncan was on his feet in a instant, pressing a hand to the lad's brow. "What's wrong? Are you sick?"

"No, I just needed to come home." Despite his words, Richie shuddered in his grasp, even as he clamped his jaw tight shut, to keep his teeth from chattering.

"C'mon," he took the teen's arm in a firm grip and propelled him towards the bathroom. "Shower, now."

Richie let himself be led, only balking, when he realised the Immortal intended to come into the bathroom with him.

"Mac, I know how to take a shower."

"Really? Because you clearly don't know enough to get yourself out of the rain before you catch your death." Duncan gently pushed him down on the closed toilet lid as he bent to unlace his tennis shoes.

"I was thinking," Richie defended himself.

"And you couldn't have done this inside?" The knots were shrunk and twisted, so Duncan just snapped the laces.

Richie made a face. "I guess I wasn't thinking about that."

"So, what were you thinking about?" Duncan peeled the sodden jacket off the shivering lad.

"How much it rains in Paris." Richie grumbled.

"Or you could tell me how you got this wet just walking home from School?" Duncan suggested mildly.

"I got kinda lost." Richie admitted.

It was the truth, even if he didn't entirely mean it in the geographical sense.

"Several hours worth of lost, unless I'm much mistaken," Duncan said dryly, tugging Richie's wet T-shirt over his head. "And here was I, thinking School didn't finish until three."

"I .. um didn't actually go to School today."

Duncan's expression darkened even as hands froze in the act of moving to help Richie out of his jeans. "Not at all?"

"Well, I guess I was there for about an hour." The teen joked nervously.

The Immortal's icy expression didn't even waver.

"Does the reason that you left have anything to do with this?" Duncan's eyes were locked on a point above his left elbow.

Surprised, the teenager looked down to stare at the bracelet of black bruises, encircling his upper arm.

"Oh, that." Richie swallowed.


	5. Chapter Five

AN – Wow, thank you soo much for all the positive feedback on the last chapter! Sorry the update was slower than usual (especially sorry Aimless and Cailin!) I'll promise that they'll be another chapter along very soon. To Shady Lady, no Rich won't get sick. I have something entirely different in mind for him (evil grin) and to everyone else, don't you know by now that the only reason I torture Richie is so that Duncan can make it all better!!

French bits – Le pauvre, the poor thing.

***

"Mac, I can explain." Richie said anxiously.

Duncan took in his wide eyes and pinched, white, expression and realised that the lad had entirely misunderstood. 

"Richie, I'm not angry with you."

The teen cast him a wary glance. 

"You don't look very pleased." He observed.

"Well, no," Duncan agreed. "But then, I've never taken it kindly when someone lays a hand on one of my own."

Richie looked up in surprise. 

"I thought .. I mean .. I cut class and everything."

"Rich, you gave me your word you would do your best, so if you cut class, I'm assuming you had a very good reason," Duncan allowed. "Am I wrong?"

Richie looked up at him. Hope warring with uncertainty in his eyes.

"I really can explain." He said earnestly.

"First things first," Duncan decided. "Do you have any other bruises, I should know about?"

"I didn't even realise I had those ones." Richie muttered sourly.

"Alright. Let's get you out of those wet things and then we'll talk."

Duncan couldn't decide if the way Richie meekly allowed him to help him out of the rest of his clothes was a promising sign, that the lad trusted him to take care of him. Or a worrying indication that he was still too cowed by his show of anger to say him nay.

"I'm not wearing those." Richie looked at the flannel pyjamas with flat denial.

Duncan bit back a grin. Not _that_ cowed then.

"They're warm and they're comfortable." He pointed out.

"So are Tessa's pink woollen dance tights, but I don't see you wearing them." Richie shot back.

"No one will see you." Duncan reasoned.

"You'll see me. And Tessa. And worse, Tessa will think I look cute, and then there'll be photographs and soon the whole world will know," Richie crossed his arms. "I'll be on billboards before you know it."

"If you put these on, I'll let you wear my dressing gown," Duncan bargained. "No one will even be able to see what is underneath."

"Promise?" Richie still looked uncertain.

"My word on it." Duncan assured him.

***

"Will you keep your voice down?" Duncan hissed. "You'll wake him."

"But he looks so adorable," Tessa declared. "Just let me fetch my camera."

"I heard that," Richie murmured sleepily from the couch. "I am _not _adorable."

"You're certainly not looking your best," Duncan peered critically at the teen. "Are you sure you're warm enough? Shall I put another log on?"

"Only if you want to burn down the barge." Richie eyed the blazing fireplace nervously.

"Do you need another blanket? A drop more soup mebbe?" Duncan worried.

"I knew I should have worn one of those hats Tessa bought." Richie muttered.

"You'd rather I left you to take sick I suppose?" Duncan scoffed.

"And the gloves, I should _definitely have worn the gloves."_

"What you should have done, is you should have come home." Duncan scolded.

"I thought you weren't mad at me?" Richie looked away.

"I'm not." Duncan took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair.

Silence reigned for a full thirty seconds before Richie said in a small voice.

"You look mad."

"I'm not mad, Rich. I'm hurt," Duncan admitted. "You run away from trouble, you run to me. You don't take a sightseeing tour in the worst rainstorm to hit Paris in living memory, you come home."

"But I did," Richie protested. "I'm here, aren't I?"

Duncan paused. The lad had a point. He hadn't run away. He had run home.

Eventually.

He supposed that was progress. Of a sort.

"Did you have to take the scenic route?"

Richie looked up at the conciliatory tone.

"I was afraid," he admitted quietly.

Richie hadn't thought it was possible for an Immortal to look so pale. Not unless they were actually dead.

"Ye were afraid of me?" Duncan asked hoarsely.

***

"Mac, will you calm down?" Richie protested at the pacing Immortal. "I didn't mean it like that."

"Exactly how many ways are there to mean it?" Duncan demanded. "You're afraid of me."

"Oh let me count," Richie shot back. "Am I afraid that you will behead me whilst I sleep? No. Am I afraid that you will throw me out onto the street with nothing more than the shirt on my back? No. Am I afraid that you will take my take my fears and weaknesses and use them against me? No. Am I afraid that you will beat me until the blood runs down my legs? No. Am I afraid that you will come into my room at night and want to prove how much you love me? No."

Duncan had stopped pacing and was looking at him, horrified.

"I'd no more dream any of that than .." he trailed off.

"I have had foster fathers who have done all of those things, at one time or another." Richie confirmed.

"All of that?" Tessa stood in the doorway, her hand to her mouth, the camera hanging forgotten from her arm, "Oh Richie .."

"Well, apart from the beheading, obviously," Richie shrugged. "But the rest, yeah."

"Why have you not spoken of this before?" Tessa came and sat by him on the arm of the couch.

"Because I didn't have to," Richie admitted. "And .. I was afraid .. of what you would think of me, if you knew."

"Oh," Duncan realised.

"Now he gets it," Richie groaned. "I swear Mac, how you ever lasted 400 years…."

"So why now?" Duncan needed to know. "Why tell us today?"

Richie shifted in his seat. "The priest said  .."

"You spoke to Darius?" Duncan blinked.

"Not unless he's lost a few centuries and gained a few pounds," Richie shook his head. "There are other priests in Paris, Mac."

"I know that," Duncan told him. "I just didn't know you knew any of them."

"I didn't," Richie shrugged. "Until today."

"What happened today Richie?" Tessa asked gently.

***

"I thought he was dead," Richie said quietly. "No, screw that, I _knew_ he was dead. That car crash was the lead story on the local evening news."

"Yet you saw this man today?" Tessa cast a concerned look at Duncan.

"I'm pretty sure it was him, what with him looking exactly the same and all." Richie agreed.

"_Exactly_, the same?" Duncan blinked.

"Well, he'd ditched the sideburns and the 70's sports jacket. But otherwise. Yeah." Richie nodded.

"He had not aged?" Tessa spoke with dawning realisation. "Then, he is like you?" Tessa looked at Duncan.

Duncan hid his frown. If this man was Immortal, he would have known what Richie was. What he would be. Even if he had died a mortal death, what was he thinking, to abandon the child to be found by the likes of Slan Quince – or worse?

"He may be Immortal. But he's not like Mac." Richie vowed darkly.

His tone brought Duncan's head up sharply.

"How do you know him Richie?"

"He teaches French History at the College," Richie said blithely. "And get this, he's Marc's Dad. I mean, what are the odds?"

"And how did you know him _before?" Duncan insisted._

Richie took a deep, shuddering, breath. "He was my foster father." he admitted quietly.

Duncan sat up a little straighter. It was clear that Richie did not have very good memories of any of his foster fathers.

"Was he good to you?" Tessa was asking hopefully

"He made me eat broccoli," Richie hedged. "I hate broccoli."

"You told me you were allergic to it!" Tessa protested

"It makes me feel sick, if that's not an allergic reaction I don't know what is." Richie retorted.

"Did you speak to him?" Duncan wanted to know.

"Yeah," Richie rubbed absently at his arm. "He wasn't too pleased to see me."

"That's how you got the bruises?" Tessa realised.

"I guess he wanted to make an impression," Richie made a face. "Apparently, he's been keeping tabs on my life, I don't know why, its not like he could send me a birthday card or anything. Anyway, seems I've managed to live down to all his expectations."

And suddenly, Duncan realised, beyond all doubt, exactly who this man was.

Still, best to be sure.

"Richie, how old were you when you were in his care?" he asked carefully.

"Fourteen," Richie said hollowly.

"This is the man who said no father could ever be proud of you?" Tessa realised.

"The very same." Duncan growled.

***

"No, Mac!" Richie was on his feet. "You told me you wouldn't do this. No reaping vengeance down to the third generation. Remember?"

"And you told me, he was dead," Duncan shot back, picking up his sword. "Guess we were both wrong."

"He _was _dead," Richie protested. "It just wasn't permanent."

"I can change that." Duncan shrugged into his coat.

"Whoa, Mac. Chill," Richie held up his hands. "You don't gotta do this. Its just a few bruises. I've had worse."

Richie gulped at the look of thunder Macleod sent his way. Clearly that had not been the right thing to say.

"Stay here." Duncan ordered.

"Mac, please, I don't want you to do this. Not on my account." Richie begged.

"He hurt ye before," Duncan reminded the teen. "I won't let him near you again."

"Could we not speak to the Police?" Tessa suggested. "Get him to stay away from Richie?"

"No!" Richie vetoed that sharply. "No Police."

"And tell them what?" Duncan demanded. "I want to report this man for something he did in a previous life?"

"So, you're just going to off this guy? For what? Because he's a jerk?" Richie tried.

"Richie, is right," Tessa put in. "Would this be your solution if this man were mortal?"

"If he were mortal, he'd already be dead." Duncan said curtly.

He looked hard at Richie.

"Don't follow me."

***

"Damn, Damn, _Damn._" Richie swore as soon the door closed behind the Immortal. "I can't let Mac challenge him, he'll _tell_ him." Richie voice cracked.

"This man will kill him?" Tessa misheard, and her voice rose in panic.

"No, Tess. He'll _tell Mac," Richie repeated, throwing off the dressing gown and starting to force first one and then the other bare foot into his battered sneakers, drying by the fire. "And then Mac'll think I lied to him and he'll never trust me again."_

Duncan's mid-length leather coat covered the worst of his night attire. Stripy pyjama bottoms were still plainly evident on his lower legs. But hopefully he wouldn't actually get arrested.

"Slow down Richie," Tessa protested. "Tell him what?"

"He said, that if anyone found out about him and me from before, he'd make sure the whole world knew the truth about me."

"But surely this is dangerous for him?" Tessa reasoned. "He cannot tell people who you are, without explaining how he knows this?"

"He could tell Mac." Richie said flatly.

"But we know who you are." Tessa didn't see a problem.

"Tess, he knew stuff about me that even I'd forgotten," Richie swallowed and looked at the floor. "I kinda went off the rails a bit after he .. dumped me. There are things I haven't told you guys."

"You know that nothing this man can say will change the way Duncan feels about you, don't you?" Tessa asked gently.

"Are you sure about that?" Richie swallowed.

"You are not?" Tessa looked up sharply.

"When I was fifteen, I spent nine months in Juvie." Richie said flatly. "I'm not even sure how _I _feel about that."

"Nine months?" Tessa looked shocked. "Whatever for?"

Richie swallowed hard and added the unbearable bit. "Armed robbery, I shot someone."


	6. Chapter Six

AN- Thanks for the reviews, and also the e-mail feedback, I like not being predicable (grins) this may not answer all your burning questions from the last chapter, but Richie really didn't want Walker to talk to Mac! To Shady Lady, hope you like the way Richie brings Mac to his senses!

***

"Do you even know where we are going?" Tessa asked, as they watched the Taxi make its way towards them over the bridge.

"He runs the fencing club at the Municipal Hall, over by the College," Richie told her. "They should be packing up about now."

"Richie," Tessa frowned. "Why do you not call this man by his name?"

"Because I don't know it."

"But he was your foster father," Tessa protested. "You must know."

"When I knew him, he was David Harrington. But I'm guessing that guy is dead now. Marc's name is Renard and he thinks his father is called Georges. He could have been any number of people before that." Richie said flatly.

"Is it possible that the car crash was the first time he died?" Tessa wondered. "That he was not an Immortal before?"

"He had swords Tess." Richie looked away.

"This is not so unusual, surely, if he has fencing as a hobby." Tessa suggested.

"He had a lot," Richie made a face. "Cleaning them was one of my punishments."

"That hardly seems like a punishment," Tessa teased, as the Taxi pulled up. "You are so fond of swords."

"You always use gloves when you do the cleaning, right?" Richie opened the door for her.

"You cannot be too careful," Tessa nodded. "Some of those cleaning agents can make your skin very red and sore." Her eyes widened, "Non, it cannot be! That is no way to punish a child." 

"Trust me," Richie winced. "Its pretty effective."

 ***

Tessa relayed the directions to the driver in rapid French and gave him a huge tip, in advance.

"What did you do that for?" Richie demanded. "We should get there easy, before Mac's Immortal radar scopes him out."

"Do you think Duncan will just drive around aimlessly unless he senses this man?" Tessa scoffed. "He will simply ask Darius where to find him."

"Oh," Richie realised. "Can this guy go any faster?"

"Not in such traffic," Tessa peered at the gridlock. "Don't worry, the driver knows a short cut."

"This isn't like one of those short cuts where we disappear off down an alley, never to be seen or heard of again, is it?" Richie scowled.

"You forget," Tessa smiled. "This is my city. I know all the short cuts."

"Spend a lot of time in alleyways as a student, did you?" Richie smirked. "Anything Mac should know? Or should I say anyone?"

"Not at all," Tessa said primly. "Duncan was my first proper boyfriend."

"Really?" Richie blinked.

"You may as well ask," Tessa sighed. "You know you are dying to."

"Don't get me wrong Tesss, I think that's real romantic and all, but didn't you ever wonder what it would be like to, you know, be with someone else?"

"Why would I wish to?" Tessa smiled. "When Duncan has the experience of several lifetimes?"

"Um. Good point." Richie blushed.

***

"Oh, shit," Richie swore, as the Taxi pulled up at the back of the Municipal Hall to the sight of the familiar black Citroen., "How the hell did he get here before us?"

He was out of the Taxi and halfway across the parking lot, before Tessa had even opened her purse to pay the driver.

"Richie, wait!" Tessa called without much hope.

The teen might well be out of his depth in the woods, or even a garden centre, but here in a city, even a foreign one, he was on home ground.

"Not the hall, too public," he scanned the area, "Not the ally, too narrow."

His eyes alighted on a dilapidated glasshouse, from the days when the Municipal College did classes in Flower Arranging and Horticulture.

_"Bingo."_

"Walker, Stuart Walker." The well built blonde intoned. "Can't we talk about this Macleod?"

"Stuart?" Richie frowned, from his hiding place. "You don't look like a Stuart."

"You can talk," Duncan said tightly. "I'm gonna fight."

"I don't want to fight you." The other Immortal protested, nonetheless, he held a very serviceable looking blade at the ready.

"Sorry, to disappoint." Duncan held the Katana with a casual confidence that was truly un-nerving.

"Would you at least do me the courtesy of telling me what this is all about?" the two combatants began to circle.

"Not what," Duncan's tone was clipped. "Who." 

 "I beg your pardon?" Walker blinked.

"Oh indeed, you will," Duncan promised darkly. "And then you will rot in hell." His sword flashed out, Walker struggled to parry the stroke.

"I'm no Head Hunter. I have a family," he protested. "A teenage son. He will grieve if I am gone. Is that what you want?"

"I think I'll be doing him a service," Duncan smiled thinly. "If the way you treated Richie is any measure." A sharp cut, slid through Walker's defences to open a wound in his shoulder.

"Richie?" Walker pressed a hand to the cut. "This is about Richie Ryan? What tall tales has he been telling you?"

***

"Oh, this is not good. Not good at all." Richie considered his options. "I have to stop this."

 "I'm telling you Macleod, the boy is a habitual liar." Walker purred, with an attacking stroke, that Duncan easily blocked.

"Do you deny that you caused the bruises on his arm?" Duncan demanded.

"There were bruises?" For a moment Walker's composure faltered, but then he shrugged smoothly. "The boy was in danger of being knocked over by some older students roughhousing in the corridor. I merely pulled him out of the way." Their faces met over crossed blades. "If there was any injury, it was merely accidental."

"I think you are the liar," Duncan vowed, pushing away with enough force to cause Walker to stagger backwards across the beaten earth.  "I think you threatened him, so that he would keep quiet about who, and what, you are."

"About what I am?" Walker shook his head, keeping his distance for the moment. "Let me ask you something, how well do you think you know Richie?"

"He told me what kind of a father you are." Duncan responded.

"Indeed?" Walker smiled thinly. "So, you would take the word of a child whose hobbies include stealing, forging signatures, hot wiring cars, picking locks and cracking safes?"

"In a hot second." Duncan gave a tight grin.

A flicker of something that might have been disappointment flashed across Walker's face. Only to be replaced with something harder and more resolute.

"Are you sure that he has never lied to you?"

"He would not."

"Not even by omission?" Walker suggested.

"I tell you what," Duncan advanced a few steps. "Why don't we try this argument as they did in the olden days? Trial by combat? That way, when I take your head, you'll know Richie was telling the truth."

"Very well," Walker agreed. "Just answer me one question first?"

***

In years to come, Richie would acknowledge that this wasn't the smartest thing that he had ever done.

Although, in his defence, he would point out that he didn't know at the time that the Immortals would sense him.

The rapier, that he had "appropriated" from the fencing club felt sure and solid in his hand, as he moved soundlessly across the beaten earth. He knew all had to do was plunge the blade into Walker's unprotected back.

Which was a bit hard to do, when the Immortal turned to face him.

"Richie,"

Walker's gaze flicked to the blade in the teen's hand and he gave a thin, malicious, smile.

"Do you still parry too broadly, boy?" he taunted.

His blade flashed down, at an angle intended to slice Richie across his unprotected shoulder.

Only to be halted in a shower of sparks, as Duncan's Katana was suddenly there to block the blow.

Richie seized his chance, and thrust the rapier deep into Walker's heart. The Immortal's eyes widened with shocked surprise, before he fell like a tree, to the ground.

"What the ..?" Duncan spluttered. "You canna do that."

"I think I just did." Richie quipped, unwisely.

Duncan's hand flashed out, seizing him by the lapel and pulling him up until they were nose to nose.

"What on earth were you thinking? Are you _trying to get yourself killed? Because you are going the right way about it, my lad."_

"I'm _trying _to get you to listen to me." Richie defended himself.

"You ever do anything that damn foolhardy ever again and you'll have my undivided attention," Duncan warned, giving him a shake. "And you won't like it one bit."

"Fine," Richie snapped. "Next time, I'll just run _you_ through."

The Immortal's eyes went flint hard and, instinctively, Richie flinched and closed his eyes against the expected blow.

Which never came.

Warily, Richie opened one eye to see the Immortal staring at him in abject horror.

Even so, the sudden, fierce hug, finding his face pressed up against the damp wool of the Immortal's coat, came as something of a surprise.

"I'm sorry," Duncan apologised, as they broke apart, his voice husky. He couldn't look at the teen. "I didna mean .."

"S'OK," Richie was made awkward by the Immortal's evident chagrin.

"No, its not," Duncan said hoarsely, with a dark look at Walker's corpse. "Indeed, it is not."

For a moment they stood there in uncomfortable silence.

"Hey, I thought I was supposed to be the reckless one in this family?" Richie teased.

Duncan's head swivelled around, his eyes wide and incredulous.

"You dinna think that this was reckless?" he managed.

"Hey, I wasn't the one determined to duel to the death over a few bruises. Kinda melodramatic, don't you think, Mac?" Richie grinned.

"This from the lad who considers anything less than six meals a day akin to starvation rations." Duncan raised a brow.

"Richie?" Tessa came around the corner, her eyes widening as she took in Walker's still form, with the thin silver rapier sticking up like a flag pole.

"What is happening here?"

***

"Richie, what on earth were you thinking?" Tessa scolded.

"Man, the acoustics are good in here." Richie muttered.

"What?" Tessa looked confused.

"Stereo," Richie explained. "I already got the same lecture from Mac."

"Which is no less than you deserve." Tessa wasn't mollified. "How could you be so foolish?"

"Aw, c'mon Tess. What was I supposed to do?"

"You were supposed to stay at home." Duncan reminded him fondly. "How did you get here so fast anyway?"

"We took a Taxi," Tessa waved her hand as if that was of no importance. She looked at Richie. "Have you told him yet?"

"Told me what?" Duncan frowned.

"That would be a no." Richie rolled his eyes.

"Richie has something he needs to talk to you about," Tessa explained.

"Um. Yeah. Its kinda a long story." Richie hedged.

"I'm listening." Duncan encouraged.

"Um," Richie gestured at his night attire. "You think you could listen somewhere warmer?"

"_Now_, he worries." Duncan rolled his eyes.

"Mac, its cold out here." Richie pointed out.

"You know, it's a good job I'm Immortal, otherwise you'd be the death of me." Duncan shook his head.

"Talking of which." Richie swallowed, glancing at Walker.

"Take Tessa to the car." Duncan ordered. "I'll be along in a minute."

"What will you do?" Tessa asked anxiously.

"I'll take care of it," Duncan assured her. "Its probably a good idea if we are not here when he wakes up."

They were almost back at the barge before something else occurred to Duncan.

"Richie, where did you get the sword?"


	7. Chapter Seven

AN –  You want to know what happened to Richie? I aim to please!

***

"I didn't actually steal it." Richie continued the argument, as Duncan settled him back on his former spot on the couch.

"Did the sword belong to you?" Tessa arched a brow.

"Well, not exactly." Richie admitted.

"Did you ask anyone if you could "borrow" it?" Duncan challenged.

"I think the answer to that would have been no." Richie said dryly.

"Please tell me you didn't skewer Walker with one of his own swords." Duncan groaned.

"It belongs to the fencing club," Richie pointed out. "I belong to the fencing club. You signed the form."

"I think this afternoon's little escapade definitely counts as an extra curricular activity." Duncan told him.

"The door was open. The sword was just lying there. I mean, it was dangerous, a kid could have picked it up. I was just returning it to the nearest responsible adult." Richie shrugged.

Duncan gave him an old fashioned look.

"That defence might work," he decided. "Right up until the point where you ran him through with it."

"Yeah, but that part would never stand up in a court of law," Richie insisted. "How would Walker explain the whole coming back from the dead thing? The judge would throw the case out, not proven."

Tessa shook her head in amusement at the teen. "I did not know that you had trained as a lawyer."

"You spend enough time in court, you pick up stuff." Richie picked at his blanket.

"I thought you said you hardly ever got caught?" Duncan teased.

Richie looked up.

"Tessa hardly ever smokes. Which means sometimes she does."

***

"Richie, we only met because you broke into our Store, in a way that suggested you'd had _lots of practise," Duncan reminded him. "Its hardly a surprise to us that you've had a _few_ run ins with the law."_

"And you have many unusual skills, which I do not think you learnt at Scout camp." Tessa murmured softly.

"Aye," Duncan agreed. "You're the most _skilled_ person I know with the possible exception of .." he stopped.

"Amanda?" Richie offered.

"I'm going to kill Connor," Duncan fumed.

"Who is this Amanda?" Tessa wrinkled her brow.

"Ah," Duncan hedged.

"A lady thief Immortal. Old girlfriend of Connor's from way back when." Richie supplied.

Duncan's jaw dropped.

"Connor ..?" he spluttered. "And Amanda?"

"Yeah," Richie looked up. "He said they used to run an inn, or a brothel, or something."

"Really?" Tessa cast an arched look at her partner. "So, this Amanda is Connor's lady friend?"

"So it  would seem." Duncan said dryly. 

"The thing is .." Richie returned to the topic in hand. "I haven't told you everything about me."

"And do you really think I've told you everything about me?" Duncan scoffed fondly. "That would take centuries."

"You certainly have not mentioned this Amanda before." Tessa murmured.

"Its not the same," Richie swallowed. "Your mistakes are like ancient history. Mine are here and now."

"So, you're not perfect," Duncan shrugged philosophically. "Tell us something we don't know."

***

"Nine months?" Duncan said in a voice, devoid of all emotion. "What happened?"

"After Walker took me back to the Orphanage," Richie swallowed. "I pretty much gave up on the foster care system. I couldn't, wouldn't, go though that again. I knew older teens were that much harder to place, so I changed my records so everyone would think I was fifteen and started spending more and more time on the streets."

"You said you were fifteen when you went to Juvie," Duncan stood up and went to stare out of a porthole. "Is this two years ago, or three?"

"Two, I really was fifteen." Richie said over a dry throat. "The first few months, when I was fourteen, were pretty OK. I was kinda small for my age so I could get in skylights and stuff that the older kids couldn't."

"You were climbing up on roof tops!" Tessa worried.

"Its not usually a good idea to go through the front door Tess. That's an easy way to get shot."

"So is carrying a gun." Duncan murmured, without turning.

"He _said _it wasn't loaded." Richie's voice quavered.

"But the victim could not know this. Why would you ever agree to do such a thing?" Tessa asked.

"By the time I turned fifteen," Richie pulled at a thread in the blanket. "I had grown some, it got harder to find people who'd take me on jobs and that winter was real cold."

"But there must have been places you could go. People who would help." Tessa was horrified.

"They don't much like minors hanging around soup kitchens and shelters and the like," Richie shrugged. "If they spot you, they ship you straight back to Social Services."

"Would that really have been so bad?" Tessa wondered.

"Yes." Richie said flatly. "So, when Kevin said he had a way to make some easy money, I agreed. I swear, I didn't know about the gun."

"You weren't even the smallest bit suspicious, when he gave it to you?" Duncan turned around.

***

"And then, when we got there .." Richie was explaining. "He just thrust the gun into my hand and said it was for insurance."

"With that kind of insurance, the premiums come pretty high." Duncan scoffed.

"He swore it wasn't loaded. I was just supposed to wave it around to make things look good. But when the guy was putting the money from the safe into the bag, this old wino keeled over, taking a stack of bottles with him,  I jumped so hard at the crash, I squeezed the trigger by mistake .. and the gun went off." Richie admitted miserably.

"Where did you shoot him?" Tessa asked quietly.

"In the cash register," Richie said unhappily.

"What?" Tessa wrinked her brow, as if this was some American slang that she was unfamiliar with, only to realise that Duncan looked similarly confused.

"In the cash register?" the Immortal repeated.

"I didn't think the gun was loaded!" Richie reminded them. "When it went off, I leapt about a foot in the air, not to mention the kick from the recoil, it missed the guy by a mile. The cash register was toast though."

"But you said you shot this man." Tessa said.

"That was the Judge. He said some legal speak about purpose and intent. Trust me, claiming you thought the gun wasn't loaded doesn't cut much ice and being a lousy shot is apparently no defence when the damn thing goes off in your hand. He said I was lucky I hadn't killed anyone and he was gonna make an example of me."

"You _were_ lucky you dinna kill anyone." Duncan said darkly.

"Even so, such a punishment seems very harsh for a boy of fifteen." Tessa frowned.

"I had some priors. Shoplifting, Joyriding and the like," Richie shrugged. "And besides, he thought I was sixteen."

"Is that everything?" Duncan asked tonelessly.

"Apart from the bit where you throw me out on my ear, yeah." Richie swallowed hard.


	8. Chapter Eight

"In all this time that you've been with me, haven't you learnt anything yet?" Duncan demanded.

"I'm sorry Mac," Richie faltered. "I know you're disappointed .."

"Oh, I'm disappointed alright." Duncan scowled at him.

"And angry," Richie amended hastily. "Really, really mad."

"How could you?" Duncan began pacing, his voice rising with each word. "After everything we've talked about?"

"Maybe, I should just pack my stuff." Richie looked at the floor.

"Oh, aye?" Duncan scoffed, as he came to a halt in front of the teen. "And where exactly were you thinking of going?"

"Well, I'm guessing Marc's place is out." Richie muttered.

This earnt him a dark look from the Immortal, which suggested he had better reconsider his answer. Fast.

"I have some money. I could get a flight back to the States." He offered tentatively.

"Over my dead body." Duncan vowed.

Richie looked up in surprise.

"Does this .." Duncan reached over and pushed up Richie's sleeve, revealing the small, black, scar. "mean nothing to you?"

"That's not fair," Richie protested. "It meant a lot. You know that."

"It _meant_ a lot?" Duncan said dangerously.

Richie shifted awkwardly on the sofa.

"Things change. People change. That's just the way it is? Right?"

Duncan took a deep breath and wondered if he had ever been such a trial to his father. He seriously doubted that he had ever been _this _bad.

But then, he had known, without question, that he was loved.

"Richie, didn't it ever occur to you that there is a reason that this is an _indelible _mark?" he sighed.

"That depends," Richie asked cautiously. "What does indelible mean?"

"It means, that we are a family, and no matter what you do, we will always love you and stand by you." Tessa spoke up.

"And we will never refuse you any care or comfort that it is in our power to offer." Duncan assured him.

"What if I did something, really, really bad. Like kill someone?" Richie asked hesitantly.

Duncan closed his eyes against the knowledge, that one day this child would have to do just that. And he would be the one to teach him when to fight and when to walk away. Such decisions were not easy and he needed the lad to know that he would always be there for him. Even if he did not always agree with him.

"Then we'd write," he forced a smile. "And we'd come and visit you in jail."

"Would you bake me a cake with a file in it?" Richie looked up hopefully.

"If it was one of Tessa's cakes," Duncan said dryly. "We wouldn't need the file."

***

"C'mon Mac. We still hafta talk about this," Richie insisted, as he accepted the bowl of stew from the Immortal. "I know, you gotta be upset."

"Actually, I'm pretty proud of you." Duncan surprised him.

"OK, there's some whole other subtext going on here that I don't know about, isn't there?" Richie arched a brow.

"It can't have been easy for you to tell me any of that." Duncan spoke gently.

"I've been wanting to tell you," Richie admitted. "But its not exactly something you can just slip into the conversation."

"And you didn't know how I would react."

"That too."

"But you told me the truth anyway." Duncan gave him a level look.

"I gave you my word," Richie spoke quietly "No lies between us, after all you'd done for me, I wasn't about to disappoint you like that."

"That is a very mature attitude, Richie." Tessa praised.

"Aye," Duncan's brogue thickened. "You were a bloody idiot and no mistake, but there's hope for you yet, my lad."

"Man," Richie gave them a shy smile. "If I'd known telling the truth worked this well, I'd have tried it before."

"You were not honest with your foster parents?" Tessa asked.

"Me? Almost never." Richie shook his head.

"Trust is a two way street Rich," Duncan advised him. "If they couldn't trust what you said, how could you trust that they would stand by you when you needed them?"

"I'm getting that." Richie smiled at him.

They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes until Duncan spoke up.

"Subtext?"

"English Lit." Richie shrugged. "We're doing Shakespeare. You used to be an Actor, right?"

"Yeah," Duncan frowned. "When did I tell you about that?"

"You didn't," Richie grinned. "I just figured, what are the odds? In 400 years there can't be many things you haven't done."

Tessa giggled. "Your face!" she laughed at Duncan.

"You'll get yours laddie." Duncan waved a fork.

 "Is it true that in Shakespeare's time ladies weren't allowed to act?" Richie asked innocently.

Duncan groaned. He could see all too tell where this was heading. He decided to head if off at the pass.

"I'll have you know that my Helena was the stuff of legends." He said, adopting a thespian air.

"That's cool Mac." Richie nodded.

Duncan breathed a sigh of relief at having averted that particular disaster and returned his attention to his meal.

"Soo," Richie looked up, with a wicked grin. "Is it true that the ladies way back then didn't wear any underwear?"

***

"I'm going out. I won't be long," Duncan shrugged into his coat, and crossed to the door in three short strides, hoping to escape any awkward questions.

It didn't work.

"Where are you going at this hour?" Tessa looked up from her book.

"Out?" Duncan offered without much hope.

"Uh oh, better watch out Tess, he's only been in Paris for a week and already he's having secret assignations." Richie teased.

Tessa ignored that.

"Is it an Immortal?" she asked, worry clear in her voice.

"Walker and I have some unfinished business." Duncan sighed.

"Oh hell," Richie blanched. "You don't think Walker will come after you now? You know, because I ..?"

"No," Duncan shook his head. 

"Well, that's something." Richie sighed.

"I _think_ he'll come after you."

"Me?" Richie squeaked. "But I haven't even got a sword!"

"In case you hadn't noticed," Duncan said dryly. "We try to keep the beheadings just been us. Its not exactly the most efficient way to kill someone."

"Unless, you count the invention of the guillotine." Richie murmured.

"What?" Duncan blinked.

Richie coloured slightly, as if he hadn't intended to say that out loud.

"Um. We did it in School," he shifted awkwardly. "It was like a production line, or something."

"You have been learning about French history?" Tessa looked pleased.

"Do you think we could stick to the point?" Duncan said in exasperation.

"I thought it was the point." Richie protested. "Its not everyday someone wants to kill me, you know."

"You surprise me." Duncan said dryly. "I want your word that you won't follow me this time."

"You're gonna use that against me from now on aren't you?" Richie groaned.

"Yep." Duncan said with satisfaction.

"Whatever."

"Is that a yes?" Duncan wasn't taking any chance.

"Yes, Oh Lord and Master." Richie grinned at him.

Duncan tousled his hair.

"It's a start." He said cryptically.

"Must you go now?" Tessa asked.

"Its always best not to let these things fester." Duncan assured her with a grimace.

***

In truth, Duncan had not expected to be quite this long. Still it wasn't as if Walker was going anywhere.

Not with the rapier still firmly embedded in his heart.

"I never said _how_ I was going to take care of him." He reasoned to himself, as he made his way over to the far corner of the glasshouse, where he had carefully hidden Walker's corpse under a discarded tarpaulin.

He still couldn't quite believe that Richie had feared that they would throw him out like so much garbage, over the mistake of a lost and vulnerable child.

"And he called _me_ melodramatic." Duncan scoffed fondly.

Still, Juvie had to have been hard on the lad. They would need to talk about that.

He stopped.

"Maybe, it as the other corner." He muttered.

Five minutes later there was no escaping the obvious. The tarpaulin was still there.

But the body was missing.


	9. Chapter Nine

AN – Thanks for the reviews and the emails, its great to know that people are enjoying this. To Laura, hope this answers your questions, and to SC, of course, Richie will be fine, eventually. (evil grin).

***

In the passenger seat, Marc Renard bit his lip worriedly and looked over at the hard, angry, profile of his father. Now did not seem like a good time.

Still.

"I thought you were dead." He said quietly.

"I was dead." His father kept his eyes on the road.

Marc scrutinised his face to see if there was the slightest chance that he was joking. But both the grim expression and the circle of blood that still marked his chest indicated otherwise.

Besides, his father was not the joking type.

"Do I get an explanation?" he asked hollowly.

"Yes," His father took his eyes off the road, to spare him a brief, glance. "When you are older and more responsible."

"Older and .." March spluttered. "Dad, this isn't the birds and the bees. You damn well died!" he exclaimed.

"You watch your mouth, young man!" Walker cuffed him, hard enough to make him see stars.

In normal circumstances, his father's anger cowed Marc into obedience. But this time he figured seeing someone come back from the dead, didn't count as remotely normal circumstances.

"What I saw was impossible," Marc told him, his voice rising hysterically with each word. "It couldn't have _happened!"_

"Obviously, it could. Since you saw it." His father was unmoved.

"But .. what .. how .. who .." he stuttered incoherently.

"You know, this emotional response is doing nothing to convince me that you are mature enough to handle this." Walker gave him a disdainful look.

"I was mature enough to handle pulling that blade out of your chest," Marc shot back. "What would have happened to you if I hadn't come looking for you?"

"Eventually, the wound would have healed," Walker said calmly. "Pushing the sword back out of its own accord."

"So, what are we talking about to heal a wound like that?" Marc couldn't quite believe he was asking this. "Hours, Days, _Weeks?"_

Walker considered that. A small projectile, like a bullet, could be dislodged by the Immortal healing process relatively quickly, often only a few minutes. A sword through the heart was an entirely different proposition. It took some considerable time for the body to repair itself sufficiently to eject a sword like that.

"Maybe longer." He allowed.

"Longer?" Marc shook his head in disbelief. "So, what? You were just going to lie there? Taking a little nap? Until when? Until the rats started snacking on your toes? Or the local wino stole all your clothes?" His voice was rising again. "Or until Mom and I reported you as a missing person?"

"I highly doubt it would have come to that." Walker gave a thin smile. 

Indeed, he was presently banking on that fact that Macleod would return to continue their confrontation at the earliest possible opportunity. 

As they pulled up at the barge, Walker noted with some satisfaction that there was no Immortal signal present. And the Citroen was missing.

Marc blinked, suddenly focusing on his surroundings.

"What are we doing here?"

***

Tessa had only just settled back down to her reading, when she started slightly at a knock on the door.

"It is rather late for visitors," She frowned, looking over at Richie on the couch. "Where you expecting anyone?"

"Dressed like this?" Richie indicated the flannel pyjamas. "I do have a reputation to consider, you know."

"Of course, what was I thinking?" Tessa smiled fondly at him.

The knock came again, this time slightly more insistent.

"You don't think it is an Immortal?" Tessa worried.

"They don't usually knock." Richie pointed out. He struggled to extricate himself from the pile of blankets, only to tangle himself up even further.

"You stay there." Tessa laughed at his predicament. "I'll get it."

"Do I have any choice?" Richie glared at the offending bedding.

Tessa blinked at the unfamiliar young man at the door.

"Um, Good evening, Madame," he shifted awkwardly, addressing his enquiry to his feet. "I was wondering if Richie was home."

"At this hour?" Tessa said, a bit tartly. "I should think so."

"Oh," Then young man looked up, with a quick blush. "Its just .. he said he was coming to fencing club today and he never showed. I was just wondering if he was alright?"

"You did not miss him until this hour?" Tessa asked dryly, wondering if this was actually about some party or other.

"I had to go to work. I was just calling by on my way home, I'm sorry its so late." He apologised.

"Yes, well." Tessa thawed a little, in the face of his obvious concern. "Richie was a little unwell, this evening," She figured that was as good an excuse as any. "I'll tell him that you were asking after him. Monsuier ..?

"I don't supposed I could see him, could I? Just for a minute?" the young man practically begged.

"Well, he's not exactly dressed for company," Tessa smiled. "But I can ask him."

She raised her voice slightly, so that it would carry into the lounge room. "Richie?"

Getting no reply, she took a step back and turned to look at the couch.

***

The first thing she saw was the light, as it caught on the steel blade, pressed hard up against Richie's throat. Her gaze travelled upward, to meet the teen's eyes, wide and frightened in his pale face, and only then did she look at the man holding the sword. The same man that she had seen lying dead, in a pool of blood, only hours before.

"I let myself in," the Immortal inclined his head towards the door at the back of the barge. "I hope you don't mind."

At his nod, the young man stepped inside and softly shut the other door.

"Duncan, will be back at any moment." Tessa said, with more bravardo than she was feeling.

"Thank you for the warning," Wallker smiled. "Then I'd better make this fast."

Keeping the blade at Richie's throat he jerked it upward slightly, Richie flinched and bit his lip as a thin line of blood trickled down his neck.

"Up." Walker commanded.

"Maybe, if you moved the blade?" Richie swallowed.

"Don't play with me boy," Walker warned, dangerously. "Get up."

"He's trapped, the blankets." Tessa explained hastily.

With a contemptuous look, Walker grasped the blankets and pulled hard, rolling Richie off the couch, so that his head hit the floor, with a sickening thud.

"Richie!" Tessa stepped forward to help, only to find herself restrained by the young man at her side.

"Don't help," he murmured. "It'll only make him worse."

Hearing someone call his name, Richie rolled over onto his hands and knees and blinked groggily at the point of a sword.

"Hey, you moved it." He slurred.

He tried shaking his head to clear it. Not a good idea.

"I feel sick." He announced to no one in particular.

"You won't be feeling anything at all, if you don't get up." Walker threatened.

"Frankly, right now, that seems like a pretty good deal." Richie swallowed hard, against a wave of nausea.

Tessa watched as the Immortal's face went tight with rage.

"Richie, do as he says, petit." she encouraged softly, hoping to keep them both alive until Duncan returned.

Moving slowly, and with some difficultly, Richie lurched unsteadily to his feet.

"Alright," he swayed slightly, "Now what?"

In answer, Walker smoothly sheathed his sword and produced a gun.

"I had to ask, didn't I?" Richie groaned.

***  
"Dad," Marc sounded distantly nervous. "You never said anything about a gun."

"First rule of business, son," Walker said smoothly. "Never leave any loose ends. Sooner or later they always trip you up. Like Richie here."

"You can't think that Duncan will let you get away with this." Tessa said icily.

"I'm not planning on giving him any choice."

"Look, if its me you want, I'll come quietly, alright?" Richie gabbled desperately. "Just leave Tessa out of this."

"Oh, I have every intention of leaving her," Walker promised. "Her kind have no business in our affairs."

"Yeah, right," Richie nodded, enthusiastically, before the splitting pain in his head reminded him what a bad idea _that_ was. "I mean, she's French, right? There's gotta be a whole tribe of relations who are gonna be clamouring to know what went down if anything happens to her."

"Really?" Walker purred. "Then that will keep Macleod occupied for a good long time."

He levelled the gun at Tessa.

"If you take Richie," Tessa warned. "Duncan will not waste one second mourning over what cannot be changed. He will come for our son."

Walker arched a brow.

"I'm prepared to take that chance."

It was the look in his eyes that gave him away. Richie had seen that look before. So, he knew. Even before Walker began to put pressure on the trigger, he knew this man was deadly serious.

He was going to kill Tessa.

"Noo!"

Unfortunately, he was a little too groggy, a fraction too slow, and an instant too late, to do anything more than deflect the gun slightly as it discharged.

It was enough to save Tessa.

But beside her, Marc Renard, fell to the floor, crimson blood blossoming across his chest.

For a moment no-one moved..

"Oh, crap." Richie breathed.


	10. Chapter Ten

AN- Oh wow, thanks for all the feedback. This super speedy update is for all of you and especially for Sara, who nagged so nicely!

***

Richie swallowed hard and tired to convince himself that the reason that he was feeling so sick, was the knock on the head, the motion of the car, or perhaps even the smell of blood.

Anything, but the fact that he was locked in the truck of Walker's car with a corpse.

"Oh man," he murmured. "How do I get myself into these things?"

Well, screw that. He knew exactly how.

_+++_

_Walker turned  to him, his eyes as hard as steel._

_"You boy, are beginning to be more trouble than you are worth."_

_Richie__ looked straight down the barrel of the sleek black gun._

_For one terrible moment he was afraid he was going to die. He was sorry that he wouldn't  be able to save Tessa. He was sorry that he had never told Mac how much he loved him and he was sorry that he'd never get the chance to meet a girl and have the family with the white picket fence that he had always dreamed of._

_But mostly, he was just scared._

_Then __Walker__ seemed to come to a decision._

_"Do you want the woman to live?" he demanded._

_"Yes." Richie said without hesitation._

_Maybe he could salvage something out of this mess after all, and make Mac just a little bit proud of him._

_"Then do exactly as I say."_

_To his surprise Tessa hadn't protested when __Walker_ had ordered him to tie her up.__

_"Make the knots tighter," she had insisted._

_"But I'll hurt you!" Richie hissed._

_"I do not want that he should punish you because you have not done it properly, petit."_

_"Tess, in case you haven't noticed, I'm not that little."_

_"You are not as grown up as you think you should be either," Tessa scolded fondly. Then she turned serious. "__Duncan__ will not rest until he brings you safely home. You know this? Yes?"_

_Richie__ closed his eyes at the absolute certainty in her tone._

_"Tess, I killed someone." He said hollowly._

_"And saved my life," Tessa reminded him. "The rest, we will deal with. As a family."_

_"Tell Mac," Richie swallowed over his dry throat, gathering his courage, "Tell him I love him, yeah?"_

_"That.." Tessa declared firmly. "You must tell him yourself."_

_ "If I live that long." Richie hadn't meant to say that out loud._

_"You must," Tessa had insisted. "You must do everything that you can to stay alive until __Duncan__ finds you. Promise me."_

_"You know, you've been spending way too much time with Mac."_

***

Suddenly the car lurched to a halt and moments later Richie squeezed his eyes tight shut as bright white torchlight, flooded the trunk.

"Get out." Walker indicated sharply with the gun.

Dazed and stiff Richie climbed out slowly, keeping one eye on the gun. The car was parked on some kind of wharf, surrounded by derelict and abandoned buildings.

"Nice place. Did you find it in the Michelin Guide?" Richie swallowed hard.

The Immortal had made him put on his coat and shoes before they left the barge. Surely, he wouldn't have done that if he was just going to kill him now?

"Don't even think about running," Walker warned, as he hefted Marc's body on his shoulder. "A bullet wound in the thigh shouldn't kill you, but without antibiotics and proper medical care these things are never certain."

"Gee. Thanks for the concern." Richie muttered.

Walker didn't appear to hear him, which was probably just as well.

"This way," The Immortal gestured towards a squat, stone cottage, carrying his gruesome bundle with exaggerated care.

Richie remembered a story Mac had told him about a Spanish Queen who, driven mad by grief after the death of her husband, had carried his corpse around with her for ages after his death. He really hoped Walker wasn't about to go the same way.

Despite its neglected exterior, inside the cottage was surprisingly well cared for. Electric lights blared into life, revealing plain but serviceable furniture. Richie hovered uncertainly as Walker laid Marc on the couch.

"Don't just stand there," The Immortal scolded, as he began to undress the body. "Get a fire started."

Richie  looked helplessly at the bundles of kindling and stack of logs by the fireplace.

"Sure," He agreed sarcastically. "Just as soon as you tell me the magic word." 

"Try matches," Walker spoke without looking up. "On the shelf over there."

"Oh," Even with the matches it took Richie a couple of tries to set a serviceable blaze in the old fireplace and by the time he turned back around Walker had dressed his dead son in a clean sweatshirt and was now calmly sitting in an armchair sipping a cup of tea.

_Alright,_ Richie reasoned to himself. _There's__ two possible explanations here. Either he's completely and utterly barking mad. Which is  not a healthy trait in a kidnapper. Or .._

Suddenly, Marc Renard took a deep shuddering breath and sat up.

***

"Bed?" Richie blinked at Walker in amazement. "You're sending me to bed?"

"Its late," Walker was unmoved. "And Marc and I have a lot to talk about."

"Next thing, you'll be telling me it's a School night." Richie scoffed. "Except I'm guessing I'm not going to School tomorrow, am I?"

"Tomorrow is a Saturday." Walker pointed out calmly.

He opened a narrow door, that Richie had taken to be a cupboard, to reveal a steep wooden staircase.

"The bathroom is straight ahead. Your room is on the right. Go and brush your teeth, I'll be up in a few minutes."

"You want me to brush my teeth?" Richie's jaw dropped.

"I don't want you getting cavities," Walker looked him up and down. "There are some clean pyjamas in the dresser in the bedroom as well. They're Marc's so they might be a little big on you. But they'll be better than those rags."

"Tessa bought me these." Richie suddenly felt absurdly loyal to the ugly striped pyjamas.

"I'll be up in two minutes," Walker told him. "I expect to find you ready for bed." The _or else hung clearly in the air._

Remembering his promise to Tessa, Richie bit his tongue and did as he was told.

To his dismay all the windows upstairs were so tiny, even a six year old would struggle to squeeze through them, and the stout, stone walls were so thick it would take centuries to make an escape.

"I thought I told you to be in bed?" Walker's stern voice from behind him made Richie jump.

"I was. I am." Richie quickly made his words true.

"You didn't change." Walker frowned.

"Um, I couldn't find them." Richie lied.

Walker narrowed his eyes, but didn't comment. Coming closer he leant over to tuck Richie in, and, to the teen's immense surprise, dropped a solemn kiss on his forehead.

"We'll talk in the morning."

Richie wasn't sure if that was a threat or a promise.

"Oh, and in case you were thinking of leaving?" Walker raised a brow. "Don't. You'll have noticed that the only way out is through the living room and I'll be sleeping on the couch. In case you've forgotten, I'm a very light sleeper."

Richie considered his less than stellar track record of sneaking up on Immortal types and decided he'd better stay put.

For now.

***

The click of the latch woke Richie from a restless sleep. He sat up as the door softly opened. Without speaking Marc settled himself on the floor between the two beds, and tipped his head back, his eyes firmly shut.

"You OK?" Richie asked sympathetically.

Just because his Dad was an arsehole didn't mean that Richie had to take his current situation out on his friend.

After all, it was at least partly his fault that Marc was now an Immortal.

"You better not let Dad catch you still awake," Marc spoke without opening his eyes, "He'll be pissed."

"Then I won't let him catch me," Richie rolled over onto one elbow. "Want to talk about it?"

"You knew, already, didn't you?" Marc squinted at him through one eye.

"Not about you. But about Immortals. Yeah." Richie agreed. "I got a little too curious for my own good and saw some things I shouldn't."

"So, I'll never age? I'll always look nineteen?"

"Well, I suppose you could cut your hair or grow a beard, or something." Richie suggested. "But essentially, yeah."

"It's a good job I've always had a thing for older women." Marc smirked.

"You have no idea," Richie grinned, thinking of Amanda.

"And I can't get sick?"

"Well, you can get sick," Richie corrected. "You just can't die of it. And over time you get pretty good immunity."

"And the wounds? They always heal?"

"Always," Richie nodded. "How fast depends on how bad the wound is, how old you are, how many Quickenings you've taken. This was your first death so it took a while."

"So, I'll get better with practice?" Marc laughed. "Maybe, I should take up a new hobby, like skydiving, - without a parachute!"

"You seem to be taking this well," Richie observed. "Are you sure you're not, like in shock or something?"

"Well, I gotta admit it was a little weird at first, but hey," Marc grinned, "What's not to like?"

Then he opened his other eye.

"Rich, what's a Quickening?"

***

"What do you mean, I have to chop off people's heads!" Marc exclaimed.

"Will you keep your voice down?" Richie hissed, looking at the door.

"How could he forget to tell me something as important as that?" Marc demanded in a hoarse whisper.

"I'm guessing he didn't forget," Richie pointed out. "That guy is definitely working to his own agenda."

He'd meant to keep his tone light and sarcastic, but they both heard the edge of fear underlying his words.

"I'm sure he doesn't want to hurt you." Marc said softly.

"So, what exactly does he want?" Richie demanded.

"You think he'd tell me?" Marc scoffed lightly. "Maybe it has something to do with you being Immortal."

Richie stilled.

"What?"

"You being like us," Marc repeated. He frowned. "You didn't know?"

"I don't think so," Richie shook his head. "The whole, not healing thing, is a bit of a giveaway."

"Rich, I can sense you," Marc was sincere. "I mean, its not as strong as with Dad, but its there. You're an Immortal. Or rather, you will be."

Richie swallowed hard. Unwilling to believe what Marc was trying to tell him.

"You're snowing me, right?"

"When I was twelve I fell out of a tree and broke my leg. I had X-rays and everything. No one noticed anything out of the ordinary. I don't think it works before you die."

"No, there must have been something," Richie insisted desperately. "Some sign that you weren't like other people."

Marc looked at him.

"Do you know who your parents are? I mean, your real parents?"

Richie went sheet white.

"I take it that's a no." Marc said, not unkindly.

"No, it can't be," Richie swallowed hard. "Mac would have told me. I know he would."


	11. Chapter Eleven

AN- Hey, thanks as always for the feedback and the reviews. I wouldn't be writing without it. And I realise I haven't been writing at all recently, but real life has been really hard work. I haven't even been reading and I have a lot to catch up on – you guys have been busy. And I KNOW people are eager to see the final part of Richie's Punishment and it should be up very soon – but I figured some update better than no update and this was much closer to being finished!

***

"There's still no word?" Darius asked in concern as Duncan shook the rain from his coat.

"Its been almost ten hours," Duncan looked tired and worried. "Surely he should have tried to make contact by now?"

"I'll fetch you some tea." Darius disappeared towards the small kitchen.

"Maybe its not you that he wants." The dark haired man at the table, picked at the label on his beer.

Duncan looked closely at him. It was not unusual for Darius to have a stream of Immortal visitors, but he couldn't recall seeing this man before.

"Duncan Macleod, of the Clan Macleod." He intoned formally.

"I know," the man took a swig of his beer.

Duncan waited, but nothing more was forthcoming.

"You're supposed to tell me your name." he prompted.

"But then I would have to kill you."

Duncan looked up sharply. The man shrugged.

"You can call me Adam, its not my real name, but since this isn't a Challenge that hardly matters, does it?"

He took another swallow of beer. Then looked up in concern.

"That, _wasn't a Challenge, was it?"_

"I've only just met you," Duncan pointed out. "What reason could I have to fight you?"

"That wouldn't stop some people." Adam returned his attention to his beer.

"Its it a little early for that?" Duncan couldn't help himself.

"Why do people always say that?" Adam sighed. "Do you have any idea how many time zones there are in this world?"

"I just never heard of beer as a cure for jet lag before." Duncan sat down.

"Don't listen to him Duncan," Darius spoke from the doorway. "He thinks beer is a cure for everything."

"So, have you two know each other long?" Duncan fished.

"Since we were teacher and student." Darius gave the dark haired man a fond look, as he set the tea things on the table.

"You were Adam's teacher?" Duncan assumed.

"Something like that." Adam murmured.

***

"What did you mean before?" Duncan asked, as he sipped at his tea. "Maybe, its not me that he wants?"

"It's a long story," Adam warned. "You're going to have to trust me."

"Not with Richie's life," Duncan said flatly. "Tell me all of it. I have _plenty_ of time."

"But Richie doesn't." Adam pointed out.

"You know something, don't you?" Duncan demanded.

"I thought I said that?" Adman looked at Darius. "Didn't you hear me say that?"

"Listen to him Duncan," Darius advised. "Your boy's safety may depend upon it."

Somewhat, but not entirely, mollified by Darius' clear endorsement of the man, Duncan set his jaw.

"Alright, I'm listening."

"Walker has a son. Marc. Whom he and his new bride fostered and then adopted from the Sisters of Mercy Orphanage, shortly after his arrival in France. A pre-immortal son." Adam told him. "Before that, he fostered your blonde haired, blue eyed boy, also pre-immortal."

"You told him about Richie?" Duncan frowned at Darius.

Although, Richie's status no secret to any Immortal who actually met him, Duncan had been decidedly cautious with the friends he had allowed the lad to meet. So, far Connor, Darius and himself were the only ones who knew what the boy was, and what he _would _be.

And now, apparently, this stranger knew.

"I didn't need to," Darius shook his head. "Let him talk Duncan. You need to hear this."

Duncan took another mouthful of tea, but held his peace.

"Before that, Walker had another son, Michael. Adopted as a foundling aged two months by Walker and his previous wife, shortly after he came to Seacouver. The child was killed, by a hit and run driver, when he was fifteen, playing ball in the street."

"Richie mentioned him." Duncan had a bad feeling about this.

"Did he mention that this boy was also pre-immortal?" Adam raised a brow.

***

"What happened to him?" Duncan asked in a strangled voice.

"He died." Adam said tonelessly.

"After that," Duncan insisted tightly.

"There was no "after that," Adam spoke quietly, looking into his beer. "Walker had been grooming the child to be the perfect Immortal. Dying at fifteen, didn't fit into his plans."

"He took his son's Quickening?" Duncan felt sick.

"Some would say it was an act of mercy." Adam looked up.

"He was only a child!" Duncan shot back. "A child who looked to his Father to care for and protect him."

"And taking a child, especially a pre-immortal child, into our world is such a _good _way to protect them." Adam murmured sarcastically.

"It depends on the alternatives." Duncan felt obliged to defend his own actions.

"You should have found your Richie a nice mortal family," Adam told him flatly. "That's what we do. Its in the manual or something."

"Richie was different. He needed me."

"And ducklings will treat a pair of yellow gum shoes as their mother if that's the first thing they see when they hatch." Adam shot back. "That boy would have taken to anyone who showed him the slightest bit of kindness and understanding. It didn't have to be you."

"So, I find him his first ever bit of stability at sixteen, only to rip that away from him when he dies his first death?" Duncan scoffed.

"That might not happen for decades, if at all." Adam pointed out.

"You haven't met Richie, the lad attracts trouble like a magnet. I'll be lucky if I can give him a few scant years of stability. At least, this way, he won't have to give up all that he knows when he becomes Immortal."

"Duncan had the child's best interests at heart." Darius affirmed.

"Well, maybe Walker will do a better job." Adam mused.

"What?" Duncan looked up.

***

"But he doesn't want Richie," Duncan protested. "He had his chance at him and he threw him out."

"Richie's grown some since then," Adam reminded him. "And he has the makings of an excellent swordsman."

"That's as maybe, but he doesn't need Richie," Duncan refused to believe it. "He'll have his hands full training Marc."

"Who died aged only nineteen." Adam spun his beer around. "Which makes him smaller and weaker than most."

"Its young, aye," Duncan acknowledged. "But a good teacher can compensate for that, even turn it to an advantage."

"And what about a bad teacher, with a track record of punishing failure with the sharp edge of his sword?" Adam enquired.

Duncan thought about that.

"I think Marc had better be a real fast learner."

"Especially now Walker has a ready made replacement waiting in the wings, waiting to be moulded into his own image." Adam added.

"You really haven't met Richie have you?" Duncan scoffed.

The lad was eager, and willing to please. But he was entirely his own person. It was one of the things that Duncan loved about him.

"I know that Walker will have his hands full." Adam allowed. 

Duncan stilled. Suddenly uneasy.

"Duncan?" Darius asked quietly.

"Richie is _my son now, Walker knows that." He vowed. "He wouldn't dare .."_

"Dare what?" Adam asked.

"Don't you know?" Duncan challenged. "You seem to know everything else."

"Not everything," Adam admitted modestly. "Just most things."

Duncan ignored that.

"When Walker had care of him he thrashed him unmercifully for the slightest transgression." Duncan swallowed hard. "Richie promised Tess that he'd do everything he must to ensure that he lived. But .."

"But the boy is too stubborn to have any real sense of self preservation." Adam said, not unkindly.

"How _do_ you know all of this?" Duncan demanded.

In answer, Adam pulled up his sleeve, to reveal a tattoo, shaped rather like a bird.

"You're an ornithologist?" Duncan scoffed, even as the design triggered some long dead memory in his brain.

"I'm a Watcher," Adam told him, standing up. "Darius will explain."

"Wait," Duncan protested. "Where are you going?"

"To find out where Walker has taken your precious boy." Adam threw over his shoulder.

"He couldn't have done that before?" Duncan demanded of Darius.


	12. Chapter Twelve

AN – In case anyone hasn't noticed by now, Walker is a bitter and twisted character, the author in no way endorses his attitude towards child rearing!

***

"Rich, c'mon, wake up will you?" Richie's teeth rattled in his slack jaw, as his world shook.

"Uh? What? Where?" He slurred. "Is it an earthquake?"

"Its far more dangerous than that," Marc stopped shaking him. "Its gone eight. You'd better get up quick."

"Its Saturday," Richie protested. "I don't have to get up on weekends. Mac says teenagers need more sleep than adults, so they can grow properly or something."

"Mac's not here," Marc reminded him gently. "And Dad's gonna take it out of your hide if you don't get a move on."

"Let him," Richie rolled over. "I didn't sleep well last night, being kidnapped at gunpoint tends to do that to you."

"Try being dead." Marc countered drly.

"If you're right," Richie turned back and propped himself up on one elbow. "I might just get to."

"Rich, I'm sorry," Marc sat on the bed. "Macleod seemed like such an all around kinda guy. I just figured he would have told you."

"Well, he didn't." Richie looked away.

 "Maybe they can't," Marc suggested. "Maybe its against one of those rule things."

"But I already _knew_," Richie protested quietly. "About Immortals. Swords. Everything. What harm would it have done?"

"You'll have to ask him that." Marc shrugged, then winced, putting both hands to his head.

"You OK?" Richie asked.

"Dad," Marc said, making a face. "At least I hope so."

For a moment Richie thought it might be Mac, come to rescue him, wrap him in his big, warm, coat, that smelled so comfortingly of home and take him back to the barge, to fuss over him in that way which Richie pretended to hate, but secretly loved.

It wasn't.

"Marc. Go downstairs and eat your breakfast, while its still hot." Walker ordered from the doorway.

As Marc left, Walker reached into a drawer and pulled out a clean pair of flannel striped pyjamas.

"Here, wear these today."

"You want me to wear pyjamas in the daytime?" Richie blinked, climbing out of bed. "I'm not sick."

"No, you're grounded," Walker told him. "Until I can trust you to behave better."

"Grounded?" Richie spluttered. "Some one needs to buy you a dictionary. I'm _kidnapped._ Not grounded."

"I see a good night's sleep hasn't improved your attitude any." Walker sighed, closing the door.

"Um. What are you doing?" Richie asked nervously.

"You seemed to have a little trouble following my directions yesterday," Walker advanced. "I just want to be sure that there are no further misunderstandings."

"You don't get to tell me what to do anymore," Richie reminded him. "You threw me out, remember?"

"An oversight," Walker shrugged. "One I intend to correct."

"What?" Richie stuttered.

He'd convinced himself that this whole kidnapping thing was just some way to get back at Mac. After all, Walker couldn't possibly want anything to do with _him._

Surely the man didn't intend to keep him?

"I know that I made mistakes with you before," Walker spoke almost kindly. "I expected too much. Asked more than a boy of your age could manage and I was perhaps, overly harsh. I can see that now. Things will be different this time. All you have to do, is exactly as I say."

"There isn't going to be a this time," Richie scoffed. "Mac will never give me up."

"You see how much you still have to learn?" Walker sighed. "Never is a very long time for men like us, Richie. Macleod has known you such a short while and he has that woman of his to protect. Oh, he may look for you at first, but this is a very large planet. There are so many places we can hide. The chances of him finding you are as good as none existent. Soon he will forget about you. Its best that you forget about him. After all, you have another family now."

Richie bit his lip.

Even yesterday he would have thrown those words back in Walker's face. How many times had Mac showed that he cared about him? Proved that he loved him? 

So, why hadn't he told him that one day he would be Immortal?

"Of course, there is a great deal which needs to be addressed," Walker mused. "You have clearly been allowed to run wild, we must choose your friends so that they will be a good influence on a growing boy, and you have missed a great deal of school, which you will need to do over. But you are small for your age. It shouldn't be that difficult to convince people that you are only fourteen."

"You want me to be fourteen again?" Richie's jaw dropped. "Are you _completely_ insane?"

"You know better than to talk to your father like that," Walker's tone hardened.

"Yeah, I do," Richie agreed. "But seeing as he's not here, that hardly matters, does it?"

He may not understand why Mac had chosen to keep the fact that he would one day be Immortal from him, but he was damn well going to give him the chance to explain.

"Oh, I beg to differ."

The next thing he knew, Walker had spun him around and pressed him up against the wall, one hand pinning his arm painfully in the small of his back, the other landing six solid smacks on his rear that had Richie biting his lip to keep from crying out.

"Now that I have your undivided attention," Walker hissed in his ear. "Let me tell you how things are going to be from now on. I will no longer tolerate your lies, or insolence, or disobedience. You will do what I say, when I say it, without question or argument. Or you will be punished. Do you understand me?"

Richie considered his current options.

He could give the man the answer he wanted.

Or he could get smacked around again.

He was stubborn. Not stupid.

"Yes." He ground out.

"I beg your pardon?"

Walker smacked him again. Twice.

"Argh, Close, but no banana, huh?" he murmured.

He was pretty sure Walker didn't speak Polish.

Sure enough.

"What was that?" He could hear the confusion in the Immortal's voice.

"Yes, _Dad_."

"Good boy." Walker patted him approvingly on his sore backside and let him go.

Richie turned warily to face him, glad, at least, to get his butt out of the line of fire. 

It was only eight thirty and already his day majorly sucked.

"Get yourself changed, and come downstairs," Walker tousled his hair "Breakfast will be ready in five minutes. I'm making something special."

He waited expectantly.

"Yes Dad." Richie sighed.

Left to his own devices he slid down the wall, stopped just before his throbbing backside made contact with the floor, and wondered what the acid test was, for being criminally insane.

He was fairly sure, Walker hadn't been as bad as this when he was living with him before.

Or, maybe it was just that he had something to compare it to now?

He missed them.

A lot.

Well, maybe it _was _difficult for Mac to find him. But he knew exactly where to find Mac. All he had to do was be a good little boy, until he got a chance to run away.

How hard could that be?


	13. Chapter Thirteen

AN – Hmm hands up all those who think Richie needs to be rescued? LOL

***

"Its been over a week. I thought you said that these Watchers watched." Duncan paced. "Shouldn't they _know _where he is?"

"They do Watch," Darius agreed.  "But they also have lives, and homes and families, Duncan. They can't be there 24 hours a day."

"Then what is the point of having them there at all?" Duncan retorted.

"You're upset." Darius said calmly.

"Upset?" Duncan gawped. "Richie is God knows where, enduring heaven only knows what, at the hands of that monster, I've had to send Tessa to Connor to keep her safe, I can barely close my eyes for worry, and then I discover my every move for the last four hundred years has been catalogued by strangers .."

He paused, suddenly hit by a thought, that in his worry, he had overlooked before.

"Who is my Watcher, anyway?"

"I am," Adam appeared in the doorway. "At least, for the moment."

"What?" Duncan growled.

"Well, what other reason am I going to give for hanging around here?" Adam shrugged. "They aren't supposed to know that I'm Immortal." 

"Have you found him?" Duncan cut to the chase.

"We found Walker." Adam evaded.

"Is Richie with him?" Duncan insisted.

"There haven't been any sightings," Adam admitted. "But that doesn't mean he isn't there. He's kidnapped. Walker's hardly going to be taking him out for ice-cream."

"Let's go." Duncan picked up his coat and car keys and heading towards the door.

"I take it you're driving." Adam murmured, at his retreating back.

***

"Is Marc still alive?" Darius asked, as he started the car.

"Well, he was this morning," Adam grimaced.

"I take it," Duncan checked over his shoulder, before pulling out. "Things are not going well."

"Walker's finally realising that he's done the boy no favours teaching him to fence for the pretty silverware." Adam observed. "He tries to fight by the rules and  struggles with the follow through."

"None of us know if we have the mettle to deliver the killing stroke until we must." Duncan pressed his lips together.

"Richie will be fine."

"You can't know that."

"Oh please," Adam rolled his eyes. "Have you even met this kid?"

"Richie's no killer." Duncan said flatly.

"He didn't seem to have any trouble killing Walker." Adam observed mildly. "Unlike some people."

"I should have killed him when I had the chance." Duncan agreed bitterly.

"Why didn't you?"

Duncan gave the man a sharp look, but saw no censure, only curiosity.

"Foolishness," he admitted. "There was a time that Richie believed he loved him, it didn't seem right to take his head with the lad watching. I went back as soon as I'd settled them safely at the barge … I knew he was a threat .. why didn't I take them to Darius?"

"You couldn't have known that the son would find the body." Adam pointed out. "Corpses don't usually get up and walk away when they've a sword on them."

"I made an error in judgement," Duncan shook his head. "My mistake. But Richie is the one who's paying for it."

***

Richie bit nervously on the end of his pencil and tried not to listen to the raised voices in the next room. Any minute now the angry words would merge into the sound of blows and cries of pain as Walker expressed his dissatisfaction with the morning's sword practice.

Again.

Every day it seemed that things got a little worse, took Marc a little longer to recover. Also, Richie was fairly sure that even Immortals needed food and sleep as much as anyone else. And Marc wasn't getting much of either right now.

"Why you ungrateful little .."

Richie's head came up sharply at the murderous tone in Walker's voice. Against his better judgment he slid out of his chair and padded soundlessly over to peep through into the living room.

"Dad .." Marc's voice was thin with terror.

"Don't you "Dad" me," Walker's voice was barely contained fury. "I've fed you, cared for you, taught you, for years .. years! And this .. this is how you repay me?"

"I'm sorry," Marc was babbling as Walker backed him into a corner. "I'm trying."

"Not good enough," Walker shook his head. "This isn't a Game. This is _the_ Game. There are no Prizes for coming second."

"D Dad ..?"

Richie bit his lip and looked around the small kitchen, wondering if Walker had left a handy sword or a discarded poker lying around that he could use as a weapon.

No such luck.

The vegetable knife wouldn't cause the Immortal much more than a minor inconvenience.

And then, he looked up.

"Bingo." He murmured softly.

***

"And I had such high hopes for you .." Walker shook his head sadly.

"Dad .." Marc's voice quavered. "What are you doing ..?"

"I've spent  years on you," Walker scoffed. "Do you think I'm going to let that go for nothing? To see your head taken by the first Immortal who crosses your path. You owe me. And, if you can't win the Game, I'll be dammed if I'll let anyone else reap the benefit of _my investment."_

The quick fast of steel was the only warning Richie got as Walker's blade flashed down to take his son's head.

"Noooo."

Heedless of his own safety, Richie rushed forward to block the killing blow with his own weapon, his arm shuddering as the two "blades" met with resounding force.

"You little .."

In one split second, Richie realised that he had transferred Walker's undiluted rage onto him, as Marc passed out with shock and terror to slid, unconscious, down the wall.

"Oh man," he muttered. "This is _not good .."_

"You forget yourself my lad," Walker growled, as he took a step forward.

"I remember, what an asshole you are." Richie shot back, frantically trying to think on his feet.

Out the corner of his eye he saw a large, heavy, candlestick.

"Time to light you to bed." He muttered, remembering an old nursery rhyme.

He just needed to take one more step.

***

"Are you sure that this is the right place?" Duncan looked around at the deserted wharf. 

"I'm sure." Adam didn't elaborate. "I'll take Walker. You look for the boy."

"Walker is my problem." Duncan growled.

"Oh, alright," Adam agreed. "Shall I offer him some candy, or ask if he wants to come and see some puppies?"

"What?"

"He's just spent a week being kidnapped, Macleod. Do you really think he's going to go with some stranger?"

"Oh." Duncan realised.

"Look, let's just get the boy back," Adam offered. "We can always divide Walker up between us later."

Duncan gave him a sharp look. Unsure if he was joking or not.

"If any harm has come to Richie, I'll start by cutting off his .." he vowed, the end of the sentence thankfully swept away by the wind, as he got out of the car.

"Note to self," Methos grimaced, as he too went to get out of the car. "Don't piss off Macleod."

The cry of fear from the house, stopped both Immortals in their tracks.

"That's Richie." Duncan ran.

"Wait Macleod, it might be a trap Macleod, how in God's name have you lived so long Macleod?" Adam muttered, as he pulled out his sword and prepared to follow.

***

As he burst through the door, the first thing that Duncan noticed was that Richie was wearing something that looked like a school uniform, dark blue blazer, white shirt, blue striped tie, over dark blue pants and brown oxford brogues.

The second thing that he noticed was that the lad was successfully holding Walker off with what looked suspiciously like a hooked metal pole for opening a skylight.

The third thing he noticed, was the large, heavy, candlestick, flying through the air towards him.

"What the …" he ducked sharply.

"Mac!" Richie exclaimed in undisguised relief.

For an instant, Duncan's eyes softened as he locked gazes with the teen, glad beyond measure to see his head still firmly attached to his shoulders, accompanied by the comforting thrum of a pre-immortal buzz. He was also much paler and thinner, than Duncan liked to see, and his eyes were somewhat haunted.

Time enough to deal with that when they were home and safe.

"Step away from him." He warned Walker, his sword drawn and his eyes dangerous.

"You want him?" Walker invited. "You come and get him."

Walker grasped Richie by the throat, eliciting a squeak of pain from the lad, that made Duncan snarl with rage.

"If you move, I will kill him." Walker warned, circling around the room, pulling Richie with him, as he made his way towards the door. 

Duncan caught Richie's eye, and winked.

"Leaving so soon?" The thin, cold, steel on the back of his neck, brought Walker to a complete halt. "We haven't even been introduced."

Circling around in front of him, Adam pressed the point of his sword, into Walker's throat.

"Let the boy go." he instructed softly.

"No, He's mine," Walker tightened his grip. "He belongs with me."

"Let Him Go."

Duncan wasn't exactly sure what Walker saw in Adam's eyes, but suddenly he threw Richie violently to the floor, where the lad gave a scream of pain.

"Richie!" Duncan fell to his knees beside the lad, rolling over the suddenly lifeless form.

"Passed out has he?" Walker laughed.

"You know," Adam told him conversationally. "You can die fast, or you can die slow. Right now, I'm thinking several centuries."

"Why let him off that easily?" Duncan's tone was flat and deadly. "I can spare a couple of millennia." 

Pinning Walker a little more firmly to the wall, with the point of his blade, Adam spared one eye to see what had the Immortal so upset.

The Immortal was staring fixedly at the hand, which he had just withdrawn from under Richie's jacket.

It was smeared with blood.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

AN – Do you know how hard it is to keep typing Adam, when you _know _he's Methos?? I just thought I'd share that!

Seriously, thanks for the reviews, its nice to see both old friends and new faces, and the good news is .. Walkers gets his .. the bad news is .. I like cliffhangers!  

***

"Is he dead?" Adam asked, in a tone that did not bode well for Walker.

Duncan gently rolled the teenager over to cradle him in his lap, reaching down into the soft hollow of his neck, to check for a pulse.

And let out a breathe that he hadn't realised he'd been holding.

"No," He noted dully how his fingers left smears of red on the lad's throat. "No .."

Deciding to take advantage of the fact that Richie was currently out cold, Duncan gently leant him forward and pulled up his shirt and jacket to check the extent of the damage. 

"I'm going to have to clear my Calendar," he said, much too calmly. "A few millennia aren't going to be enough."

Adam didn't even bother to look.

He could imagine all too well.

"You know," Adam pushed the point of his sword so firmly into Walker's throat, that a little trickle of blood ran down his neck. "It really isn't fair to pick on people who are smaller and weaker than yourself."

He paused.

"But in your case, I think, I'm going to make an exception."

"Who _are_ you?" Walker demanded.

"Ah, yes," Adam circled him with his sword. "Introductions. Let's start with you. Stuart Walker. Born 100 years ago. Adopted as a founding by a wealthy landowner. And a real disappointment for Daddy. He must have been quite pleased when you died. Did he dance on your grave?"

Walker swore at him.

"There's a name for people for try to compensate for their own miserable lack of ability by using their children." Adam's tone was icy.

He tilted his head in Macleod's direction.

"There's a Hospital in the next town. Take the boy. I'll deal with this and bring along the fourth mustakeer over there. We can use Walker's car. He won't be needing it anymore."

The only part of that sentence that Walker appeared to comprehend was the fact that Richie was leaving.

"Nooo," he protested. "He is mine."

***

It took only seconds for Walker to kick over the innocent looking can by the front door and drop his lighter into it.

But the fire shot up around the wooden doorframe like a Hollywood special effect.

"Oh, great, just bloody great," Adam protested. "Macleod, a little help here?"

"Do I look like the kind of person who has a fire extinguisher in his back pocket?" Duncan asked, as he looked around for something to substitute. "What the was in that can anyway?"

He gave a quick, fearful glance upwards, as a lump of burning ash floated down. The fire was beginning to take hold in the beams above.

"How the bloody hell should I know?" Adam shot back. "Is there a backdoor to this place?"

"You can't get out." Walker said, in satisfaction. "I chose this property very carefully. The windows are too small to allow any but a child to pass through. The stone walls are several feet thick."

"I've not .. found Richie, only to loose him now." Duncan, coughed, as the smoke started to burn his throat and eyes.

Adam blinked, his own eyes starting to smart.

"When would you say this house was built Macleod?" he asked, scooting sharply to one side to avoid the flapping of a burning curtain.

Duncan paused. "Of course!"

"What .. " Walker spluttered, as Macleod pushed the sofa to one side and started to roll up the carpet. "What are you doing ..?"

Walker paled as Duncan unearthed a wooden trap door, leading to a cellar below. Then looked up sharply as the whole house, creaked dangerously as the whole of the first floor threatened to give way.

"Take the lad down, shut the trapdoor behind you. You should be safe down there." Adam commanded, urgently.

"What about Marc?" Macleod looked at the still unconscious teenager.

"No time. One way or another Marc will come out of this alive," Adam reminded him. "Richie can still die."

"What about you?" Duncan asked.

"I'll live too, but thanks for asking." Adam grinned.

Waiting until he was sure Macleod was out of earshot, he advanced on Walker.

"I am Methos. And you are dead."

***

"Easy lad," Duncan soothed, automatically as Richie whimpered slightly, his battered body being jolted by the descent down the narrow steps.

"M'ac?" Richie's voice croaked.

Duncan carefully shifted the lad from his shoulder and sat down with him, settling him in his lap to keep him off the cold earth floor.

"Shh. I'm here." Afraid to touch him anywhere else, Duncan slipped a hand around the back of his neck and rubbed gently, pulling the lad to rest against securely his chest.

"You came." Richie breathed into his shirt.

"Did you ever doubt it?" Duncan asked, gently.

Richie said nothing, but Duncan thought he saw the sparkle of tears on his lashes.

"Rich?" Duncan frowned slightly.

"I thought ..." Richie threw his arms around the Immortal, and buried his face in his shirt, too worn down by the events of  the last week to hold back.

"Hey, hey," Duncan stroked his hair, slightly surprised by the strength of emotion as the teenager sobbed desperately in his arms. "Shh. Its alright. I've got you. You're safe now."

"I hate him," Richie hiccupped. "I really, _really_, hate him."

"I know," Duncan soothed, his own tone steely. "Believe me, I know."

The sounds of a Quickening above caused him to glance quickly upwards, as the roof creaked ominously, only to flinch instinctively at a thunderous crash.

"What was that?" Richie's eyes were wide with panic.

"Nothing to worry about," Duncan frowned. "But maybe, we should see if we can find another way out."

 Richie took a deep, quivering, breath, and looked at their surroundings from the first time.

"Mac, we're in a basement," He sniffed, and rubbed his face on his sleeve.

"I know." 

"Well, how are we going to get out?"

***

"So," Richie peered past the small wooden door down the tunnel, as Duncan struggled to get the old oil lamp to light. "You've done this before, right?"

"Well, not here. But places like here," The lamp flared. "Once upon a time, cottages like were used to store goods from the ships. But you had to pay tax if your cargo landed at the wharf. Not all of their goods came through what you might call official channels."

"You mean like Pirates?" Richie asked.

"More like Smugglers," Duncan looked back at him. "Contraband and the like. You ready?"

He gave the teen an appraising look. Richie looked pale and tired, visibly sagging the heavy warmth of the Immortal's leather coat.

"To get out of here? Sure."

"Alright, give me your hand, huh?"

"Sorry?" Richie blinked at him.

"These tunnels are long and dark, and we only have one lamp. I just found you. I don't want to loose you again." Duncan shrugged sheepishly.

"Fine." Richie said flatly, offering his hand.

"Um. Good lad," Duncan praised awkwardly, a little disconcerted by such easy compliance. "This way."

He could tell by the slight slope and there general direction that the tunnels were heading towards the sea. Given that the smugglers often had to transport heavy casks and wooden boxes, he was hoping that they wouldn't end up halfway up a cliff.

"The floor's getting wet." Richie looked up, "You think there's a crack or something?"

"Something like that." Duncan murmured, looking straight ahead.

Richie followed his gaze.

"Oh shoot." he said softly

As the ground sloped down, directly blocking their path, was a long, narrow lake of water.

***

"Stay here." Duncan instructed, pulling off his shoes. 

"Like I have any choice." Richie rolled his eyes, and then winced, as if expecting a blow.

In sudden understanding, Duncan put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Hang in there Tough guy. You'll get through this. I promise." He tried to catch his eye, but couldn't.

Richie nodded sharply, as if unwilling to trust his voice, his downcast eyes unnaturally bright.

Duncan sighed. The lad needed a little time. That was all. He turned and waded into icy water, sucking in his breath at the icy cold.

"Arh, its freezing." He complained.

"Mac?" Richie's high, anxious, voice, stopped him. "Be careful, yeah?"

"Always am." Duncan gave him a soft smile. 

It wasn't half as bad as he'd feared. True there was a good deal of water flowing through the tunnels. But there were parts all along where a man could come up for respite and air. They could do it in stages. Richie wouldn't have to hold his breath, _that long._

Now all he had to do was convince the lad.

***

"I can't do that." Richie looked at him in absolute horror. "I can't swim, remember?"

"You don't have to," Duncan soothed, "I'll do all the work."

"I'll drown." Richie sounded close to panic.

"And if you sit here, you'll more than likely bleed to death." Duncan let his own worry and exhaustion get the better of him. He took a breath. "C'mon, Rich. Just trust me."

"Sure," Richie shrugged. "After all, what does it matter?"

"Pardon?" Duncan blinked.

"I said," Richie regarded him flatly. "What does it matter, if I drown?"


	15. Chapter Fifteen

AN – Thanks as ever for the reviews and the e-mails For those of you who are wondering about Walker, remember its not over till its over (evil grin)

Things get a bit complicated in this Chapter, I have it on good authority (and thanks for Southern Chickie and LoMaRiBa for their comments!) that it works, but it might help to bear in mind that Richie hasn't yet _told_ Mac that he's knows about his Immortality, .. so what's a poor guilt ridden Scot to think?

***

As soon as the words were out of his mouth Richie regretted them. He hadn't meant to blurt it out like that. He'd meant to wait, a few hours at least, until they could talk about it. Like two adults, right?

Instead, he was standing here, stiff with pain from the injuries on his back, and others that Mac didn't know about yet, trembling with exhaustion and adrenalin and a couple of other things that he didn't really want to put a name to, in a dark, dank, tunnel, with a burning house behind and the blue lagoon blocking their way ahead.

Fervently wishing that he had kept his mouth shut when he saw the expression on the Immortal's face.

"It matters Richie," Duncan sounded like he couldn't believe his ears. "Of course it matters."

Richie, shrugged slightly inside the Immortals jacket, tensing slightly as his shirt rubbed across the welts. He was tired and cold feeling more than a little embarrassed, that, having held things together all week, the first thing he had done was break down and sob like a baby in the Immortal's lap.

Not to mention, that he was completely out of his league when it came to articulating the mixed emotions evoked by the Immortal's sudden, miraculous, rescue.

He had never been so glad no see anyone in his life.

And the open relief in Duncan's expression had warmed his battered soul.

Mac could do deadpan which the best of them. Richie had seen him face down other Immortals without so much as a flicker of emotion. That he would should his feelings for him, so openly, in the face of an enemy, had to mean something, right?

Except, the Immortal apparently _didn't_ care enough about him to tell him that he would be Immortal.

"Why does it matter?" he insisted.

He wasn't sure what kind of reaction he had expected. Surprise, maybe, that he had figured out that he couldn't actually die? Resignation, perhaps that he wouldn't be able to nag him to stay safe all the time? Perhaps, even a little mad that he had discovered the truth?

Not this.

"You don't say that," Duncan reached out pulled him up by the lapel, so that he was balanced on his tip-toes, nose to nose with the Immortal, "You don't _ever, say that. It matters. Do ye hear me?"_

Almost oblivious of the burning pain, which the sudden movement ignited across his back, Richie could only stare open mouthed at the depth of the Immortal's reaction.

"B .. B ..ut .." he stuttered.

"For Lord's sake lad," Duncan changed his grip, cupping Richie's face between his two hands, "Do you not know yet how much you are loved? Your life is no mere bauble to be thrown away without care or thought. Do you think I would ask this of you, if I didn't think I could keep you safe?" he demanded.

Confused and a little overwhelmed by the Immortal's unexpected response. Richie looked away.

"Its not like you need to." He muttered.

After all, whatever happened, he'd live. One way or another.

***

As soon as he heard those words Duncan felt like a knife had cut into his soul. He had been afraid of this.

This was how Richie had been when he moved in. Too independent for his own good. Too reluctant to accept the help and care and support that was offered.

Determined to take care of himself.

Except, this time he could hardly blame him.

All week, he had tried to imagine what he would say to Richie when he finally had him safe and well. Except what could he say? _I'm sorry that I was careless enough to let you get you kidnapped, I'll try to do better in future? _

Little comfort that would be.

And now, his worse fears were being realised. Richie had been hurt, badly, body and soul, because he hadn't been there for him. Because he had made a mistake and failed to protect him, and now, Richie's trust, hard won and greatly prized, was clearly slipping away.

Things had come to a sorry pass, when a slip of lad, thought he had a better chance of keeping himself safe than relying on the offices of the great Duncan Macleod, of the Clan Macleod.

So, he offered the only defence he could think of.

"But, I want to," Duncan swallowed. "You have to believe that, Richie."

More than anything he wanted the lad to believe him. He wanted Richie to feel that he could be trusted with his welfare. All else aside, the lad needed someone to watch over him, however grown up and independent he might feel himself to be.

***

The clear sincerity in the Immortal's voice, brought Richie's head around. He still didn't understand why Mac was so sure fire determined to keep him alive and mortal, when he came with a ready made Immortal safety net. 

But he was beginning to think that his motives for not telling him might be more complicated than just keeping the pesky teenager out of the adults business.

"I really, don't want to drown." He confessed truthfully.

Even if he couldn't die the water, looked cold and dirty, and he couldn't imagine that having your lungs fill up with water was any kind of fun.

"You won't," Duncan assured him. "I won't let you."

"Your jacket's gonna get ruined." Richie realised.

The sudden, bark, of laughter, from the Immortal, took Richie by surprise, even as he reached down to ruffle his hair.

"Sod, the bloody jacket." Duncan scoffed. "Leave it here."

Frankly, he was just relieved that, even though he clearly felt that the Immortal had let him down, Richie was prepared to go along with him. At least for the moment.

***

"I'm _not taking all my clothes off." Richie said flatly._

"Why?" Duncan, gave him a sharp look. "Do you have any other injuries I should know about?"

He did. But that was hardly the point.

"Not everything in this world is about you, _Macleod_." He snapped, tightly.

There was a moment of silence.

"No, you're right. I'm sorry." Duncan's voice was tired and resigned.

If Richie was calling him Macloed again, then they had even more problems than he'd imagined.

"No," Richie sighed.

Whatever else was going on, his personal hang-ups certainly weren't the Immortal's fault. The Scot had never done the slightest thing to make him feel the least bit uncomfortable around him.

"I'm sorry. Long week, huh?"

His small attempt at levity did nothing to lighten the Immortal's expression, which was still creased in an uncomfortable frown.

"Mac?" he worried.

For some reason, which escaped Richie entirely, that simple enquiry, was enough to bring a genuine smile to the Immortal's face.

"Nothing.," Duncan shook his head. "Look, just strip off your outer clothing. Leave your pants and shirt on."

Moving carefully, Richie obeyed, lifting first one foot and then the other to removed the much hated brown, shiny, shoes.

"No," Duncan stopped him. "Leave your socks on. It helps against hypothermia."

"But they'll be all wet." Richie didn't see the logic in that.

"I know, but it still helps. Trus…." Duncan bit his lip so hard, it bled.

Richie looked up in surprise, when the Immortal didn't finish his sentence, only to see Duncan looking down at him with tears standing bright in his eyes.

"Mac?" 

He really hoped Mac hadn't noticed the dried blood on his white socks. That wasn't a conversation he wanted to get into right here and now. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Duncan managed hoarsely, shaking his head.

The Immortal blinked hard, before focusing on the teen.

Then frowned.

"You have blood on your socks." He said, almost accusingly.

So much for not noticing, Richie sighed. Although, in truth, he was more than a little comforted that Mac seemed to care. After all, maybe it couldn't kill him. But it still hurt.

"Long story." He said honestly.

Duncan gave him an appraising look. The lad really needed to be in a Hospital, or at the very least, in a warm bed. Preferably, after a hot bath, and a warming bowl of broth, or three.

But this was neither the time or the place. He'd get the story out of the lad soon enough.

"You ready?" he nodded at the teen.

He didn't miss, the quick, nervous glance, that Richie gave the water.

"It'll be just like in Connor's pool," Duncan encouraged him. "All you have to do is relax."

"Just like Connor's pool, huh?" Richie scoffed. "So, where're the lions?"

"You liked them, huh?" Duncan asked, more to distract the teen than anything else, as he shepherded him into the cold water, taking him in chest deep, before giving him a moment to adjust to the icy temperature.

"Sure," Richie sucked in his cheeks against the cold. "Every home should have some."

"I'll try to remember that," Duncan smiled, glad to hear the lad being a little more like himself.

"What do I have to do?" Richie demanded, his eyes wide and scared.

_Just trust me._

It was on the tip of his tongue, but Duncan couldn't say it.

"Take a couple of deep breathes," he instructed. "Get some air into your lungs."

Richie do so, creating little ripples in the water as his chest moved up and down.

"OK, the first parts not so bad," Duncan encouraged. "Only a minute or so. Just before we go, you take a deep breath and hold it."

"Right," Richie nodded, fervently wishing he'd worked out more, to build up his stamina and stuff. Still, a minute didn't sound too bad. He could do that. "You want me to kick or anything?"

"No," Duncan shook his head. He didn't want Richie expending any more energy than he needed to. He could propel them both through the water easily enough. It wasn't as if the lad weighed all that much. "Just .. don't let go, OK?"

"Whatever." Richie muttered, wondering if he should tell the Immortal _why he was so afraid of water. Maybe, braving the burning building was the the way to go after all._

Except, being burnt to death probably hurt more than drowning.

And Mac would probably think he was just being a baby.

For his part Duncan sighed.

Clearly, he was going to work very hard to get the lad to trust him again.

Well, he could start by getting him out of here safely.

"You ready?"

Although clearly terrified, Richie nodded, took a deep breath, and they dived.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

The water was cold. Much colder than Richie had imagined. He squeezed his eyes tight shut, feeling the water wash past them, as Duncan propelled them both through the narrow tunnel. His chest ached, with the effort not to breath, with cold, .. and fear.

And then it was over.

Breaking through the surface of the water, he took great, gasping breaths, that had as much to do with the release of his terror, as his body's need for oxygen.

"Oh mi God, oh mi God.." he managed.

"Easy Rich, slow it down, take deep breaths." Duncan's voice coached in his ear.

With an effort Richie complied, gradually bringing his panic under control.

"That's the way," Duncan praised. "Nice deep breaths."

"_That_ was a minute?" Richie coughed.

"You did fine Rich, just fine." Duncan soothed.

Richie opened his eyes to find himself in utter blackness

"Whoa!" he splashed, wildly.

"Richie!" Duncan's hand tightened, around his chin, keeping his face clear of the water. "Calm down! You'll hurt yourself."

Sacrificing buoyancy for the moment, he pulled Richie back into his chest and wrapped his arms, around him, hugging him as best he could whilst treading water. Richie, wrapped his own arms around him, holding onto him for dear life a life buoy.

"Alright, alright, I'm calm, I'm calm." Richie repeated, like a mantra. 

"You don't sound it." Duncan couldn't help himself.

"I tried drowning once before," Richie coughed. "Didn't like it much."

"What?" Duncan managed.

"Um. Nothing," Richie hastily changed the subject. "Fun as this is Mac, what do you say we get out of here ..?"

"Alright," Duncan really didn't want to keep Richie in this cold water any longer than was absolutely necessary. "This next one is a little bit longer."

"Longer!" Richie's voice went up a whole octave. "How much longer?"

"Not too much," Duncan assured him. "Just take a nice, deep, breathe and hold it, OK?"

"Deep breath," Richie shifted slightly against his chest as he nodded. "Got it."

***

This time the cold did not seem so bad. Or maybe, it was just because he couldn't feel very much anymore. But it was hard, holding his breath. His chest started to burn. He tried counting .. one hippopotamus, two hippopotamus .. Please let it be over soon .. Please let it be over ..

And, at last, it was. And he was sucking in the damp, musty air, in desperate mouthfuls.

"Alright Richie," he could feel the Immortal's strong arm, wrapped around his chest, supporting him. "Just like before. Nice, slow breaths."

"Hurts .." Richie managed. His chest felt like it was about to explode.

"I know, Tough Guy," Duncan's voice soothed. "Just give it a minute. It'll pass."

Richie swallowed hard. He didn't know how Mac managed it. It seemed that even in the middle of the most dangerous situations, the Immortal always managed to sound calm and unruffled. He'd always figured it had something to do with knowing that he couldn't really die.

But here he was, knowing just that, and he was still scared stupid.

He wondered if it was the sort of thing that got easier with practice.

"There's just this next one .." Duncan was talking to him.

"_Another_?"

He no longer cared if the Immortal could hear the fear in his voice. The mere thought of going back under that black, icy cold, water, terrified him.

"Last one," Duncan assured him. "Then we're home free. All the way to the beach."

"A beach, huh?" Richie managed, struggling manfully to keep his tone even. "You gonna buy me a ice-cream, huh?"

"An ice-cream?" he could hear the surprise in the Immortal's voice.

"N never m mind ..." Richie's teeth chattered. He probably looked like a popsicle. He'd be lucky to get anything but tea, soup and gruel for the next few days.

But the soft, warm, breath of the Immortal, on his ear surprised him.

"I'll buy you the biggest ice-cream you've ever seen in your life, my brave, bonnie, lad."

***

The last one was the worst. By far the longest, Richie could feel his pulse beating in his ears. His chest was tight with pain. His limbs were cold and stiff, no longer seeming a part of his own body. Soon it would be over. Soon. Soon. Soon.

But this time, it wasn't.

The pressure in his chest grew, Richie wanted to cry, to scream, to breath. But he dared not. The harsh grazing of his numb arms and legs along the wall of the tunnels made him want to kick and twist in terror. But he could not.

He needed to breathe.

The ringing in his eyes made him feel like his head was going to explode. He clenched his jaw tight, but instinct overrode intellect. He opened his mouth and cold, foul, water, seeped in, filling his mouth, his throat, his lungs ... and spots started to appear in front of his eyes.

"Dear God, no .." Mac's voice sounded close to panic.

Richie's face, was turned, none too gently, to one side, his cheek, pressed hard into soft, scratchy, sand. He wondered, distractedly, when they had got out of the water.

"C'mon Richie. Breathe!" Mac's voice was pure command.

Richie coughed hard, and spat foul smelling water from his mouth, wheezing in a deep breath, and coughing again. Dimly he was aware, of the Immortal's arm helping him to sit up and gently pushing him forward, to help clear his lungs. Totally spent, he sagged against the Immortal's chest.

"Richie? Are you alrite lad?"

The worry in the Immortal's tone was oddly comforting.

Then he shifted slightly and Richie heard the soft hiss of the Katana being drawn from the scabbard slung across the Immortal's back.

"Its just me," A slightly peeved voice declared. "How's the boy? And why are you so wet?"

"Long story, did you deal with Walker?"

"Long story." The other voice sounded apologetic.

"What?" Mac growled, dangerously.

"Can we talk about this somewhere warm and dry?" the other voice suggested.

"No." Mac said flatly.

"Oh, alright. I …. Is he supposed to be that strange blue colour?" the other voice deflected neatly.

"I drown'd," Richie slurred.

Beneath him Mac shifted slightly and Richie realised he was being picked up and carried.

It felt kinda nice.

"You're alright now," Mac's voice assured him. "Did you at least bring the car?"

"This way," the man's voice started to move away. 

"Not now," he frowned in concentration, needing to get this right "B'fore."

 "You'd drowned before, I think I would have noticed my lad." Mac said wryly.

 "The cops chasin us." Richie screwed up his face as he struggled to remember.

"Its alright, Richie," Mac's voice soothed. "There's no one chasing us."

"Yeah," Richie insisted. "Going too fast. R r r ight off the pier." He made zooming noises, then gulped and looked up at Mac with large, unfocused eyes. "Can't swim."

"I know you can't swim, Tough Guy." Mac's tone was patient. "But you .."

"Nuh uh. The _car _couldn't swim. It sank .." Richie gave a slightly hysterical giggle. " .. it was all dark and cold, Mac? How do fish see in the dark?".

 "The _car couldn't swim?" the other voice asked._

"He's had a long week." Mac sounded resigned.

A thought occurred to Richie.

"Would I still be fifteen? Like for ever and ever?"

"Dammit Adam, will you watch where you are going?" Richie was jolted slightly as Mac stopped abruptly. "I almost ran into you."

"You _told _him?" the tone was cold as ice.

"No, of course not ..I wouldna .." Mac's voice rose as he defended himself.

"Well, someone clearly has." The voice was clipped and angry.

Richie knew that tone. Someone was going to get hurt. He tried to burrow into the Immortal's chest. If there was going to be yelling, he wanted to be as close to the Immortal as possible.

Mac wouldn't hit him.

Mac wouldn't let anyone else hit him either.

"Easy Richie," Mac's voice was kind. "No one's shouting at you."

"Oh, bloody hell. Sorry Macleod."

"For accusing me or scaring Richie?" Mac asked in that conversational tone, that Richie recognised as really pissed off.

"You're not going to like it ." the man said uncomfortably.

"In case you hadn't notice .." Mac said sarcastically. "I'm already not liking it."

"When Richie was fifteen, he and two so-called friends went joyriding along the boardwalk. The Police report says the car suddenly lost control, although I don't expect being chased at high speeds helped matters much. The car went off the pier. The friends got out. Richie didn't. The rescue services had to go in after him. They did CPR at the scene."

"He stopped breathing?" Mac sounded shocked.

"Which would have made him fifteen, for ever and ever. Or at least until he lost his head." The man's voice sounded pragmatic.

"Oh hell," Mac breathed in sudden realisation. "_That's what he was talking about before .. I thought .. damn Walker. He had no right .."_

"I take it the boy's not too pleased with you?"

"That would be putting it mildly." Mac sounded rueful. "It took me long enough to win his trust. What on earth do I do now?" he wondered aloud.

"Don't tell him you know," the man suggested. "At least, until he's strong enough to talk it through properly."

"He's damp, not deaf." Mac pointed out. "And he's right here."

"The state he's in?" the man sounded amused, as Richie heard the familiar sound of the T-Bird door opening. "He won't remember anything much past that knock on the head that Walker gave him."

"Is that your professional medical opinion?" Mac scoffed.

"Yes," the man sounded smug. "Actually, it is."


	17. Chapter Seventeen

AN – Thanks to everyone who has ever reviewed, e-mailed, enquired, begged and pleaded, about the continuation of this story especially RRyanForever, Jodi, and Trecia for making sure I kept thinking about it! (See, feedback really does work!) Especial thanks go the inventors of instant messaging and Southern Chickie for providing the prompting, ideas and inspiration that finally got me back into it. I'm sorry it took so long, but I didn't want to post until I was sure how it would pan out. There will be three more chapters after this.  Hope you enjoy ..

***

"Are you sure about this?" Duncan demanded, as he gently lifted Richie's battered body from the car.

"You've not that naïve Macleod," Adam got out of the other side and came around to lead the way down the gang plank to the barge. "You must have some idea of what kind of injuries we'll  find. Do you really what to spend the next few months trying to explain those away to the authorities? Its not like his condition is life threatening."

"How can you know that?"

"Because I'm a Doctor," Adam answered with exaggerated patience. "And in my experience, if a patient is well enough to be up and about, and doing battle, then there's nothing dangerously wrong with him. He'll be stiff and sore, and dammed uncomfortable for the next few days, but that's all."

"He lost consciousness." Duncan insisted stubbornly. "That's always dangerous."

"So, we check for signs of concussion." Adam agreed. 

"You told me to take him to a Hospital." Duncan reminded him.

"Yes. _I know_," Adam's patience was wearing thin. "But that was before I decided to help."

In truth, he hadn't anticipated that Walker would still be a very real and present danger. Not so much a loose end as a loose cannon. The type of Immortal that was dangerous to all.

"Do you even know what you are doing?" Duncan interrupted his thoughts.

"In helping you?" Adam shook his head. "No, I probably need my head examined. You are infamous at the Watcher Academy for attracting an almost weekly quota of evil Immortals. Whereas, other people can go centuries without a challenge."

"I _meant_, as a Doctor. He's too young to join the Game."

"Oh, I don't know," Adam smirked, "He's a dab hand with a metal pole already. You must be very proud."

Duncan decided to ignore that and concentrate on not jostling Richie's battered body as he transferred him onto the barge.

"Damn," he stopped short, at the front door, looking at the unconscious teenager in his arms, "My keys are in my front jeans pocket."

"Here, let me." Adam offered.

Instinctively Duncan took a step back at the thought of the virtual stranger rummaging around .. down there.

"Sorry, Macleod, you're not my type." Adam smirked. With a skill that put him easily in the same league as Amanda, the dark haired Immortal picked the lock.

"Are there no end to your talents?" Duncan raised a brow.

"Would you rather stand out here in the cold?" Adam made his way inside.

"Come in why don't you?" Duncan muttered to empty air. "Make yourself at home. Mi casa est su casa."

"Do you have any beer?" a voice drifted back.

***

Duncan struggled to keep his temper as he carefully pulled the covers up and tucked them securely around Richie's sleeping form. Reaching out to stroke the still slightly damp blonde curls, he felt another surge of anger at Walker.

"Its not as bad as it looks." Adam's voice came from behind him.

"He cut his hair." Duncan managed fiercely. "Like he was some damn drill sergeant and Richie a recruit at his own personal military school."

"Its just hair. It'll grow back."

Duncan straightened and turned the full force of his fury on the other man.

"And the skin off his back? That'll grow back too, I suppose?"

"Yes," Adam countered, without flinching. "He's strong Highlander. He'll survive this. He's survived worse."

Duncan sighed. He knew that was true.

"And now he has you to help him." Adam added more gently.

The trouble was, looking at the pale, still, form, Duncan felt painfully unequal to the task. They had got Richie in and out of the bath while he was still out of it, but the task of cleaning and dressing his wounds had stirred him to consciousness, struggling weakly against the hands that held him, with soft cries of pain. It has taken a double dose of Darius' special tea to ease him back into sleep.

"I'm going to call Tessa." Duncan decided.

"Do you think that's such a good idea?"

"She'd want to be here."

"Walker's still out there somewhere and he won't hesitate to use Tessa to get the boy. Do you want to make that choice?" 

"But .. Richie needs her." Duncan protested more weakly.

"What Richie needs right now is your undivided attention. How do you think Tessa is going to react, when she finds out Richie is gong to be Immortal one day?"

"How do you know I haven't already told her?"

"Have you?"

"No." Duncan admitted.

"I rest my case. Richie's physical injuries will heal soon enough, but his emotional state is a different matter. He's had a difficult week and he's made a fairly earth shattering discovery. You'll need to be patient with him, he might be tearful and clingy one minute and pushing you away the next."

"He's tried pushing me away before," Duncan recalled fondly. "Time he learnt I'm not going anywhere."

***  
The first thing Richie was aware of was the scent the of clean, fresh, sheets. He murmured contentedly and snuggled a little deeper into the bedding, sending a firebrand of pain shooting across his back.

"Argh!"

His eyes snapped open and he shot upright in bed, causing him to hiss sharply and immediately screw his eyes tight shut as a dozen other pains woke up and made themselves known.

"Easy Rich,"

Warm, gentle hands, grasped his shoulders and eased him back down onto soft pillows, one hand slipped up to support his head, and a warm cup was pressed to his lips.

"Here, drink this, it'll help the pain."

Richie had little choice but to swallow the honey sweet liquid that washed its way around his teeth. It was kinda nice.

"Alright," the mug was removed. "Can you open your eyes for me?"

"Hurts."

"Your eyes hurt?" the voice sounded concerned.

"No, it hurts." Richie managed.

"Aye lad, it will." the voice sounded tired and angry. Richie tried to make himself as small as possible. He didn't want to get smacked again.

"Richie, its me, Mac. You're safe. No one is going to smack you."

Had he said that out loud?

"C'mon Tough Guy. Open your eyes for me? Please?"

Something deep inside Richie responded to the unaccustomed note of pleading in the Immortal's voice. Slowly he opened his eyes and looked cautiously around the small, wooden, cabin.

"Walker's not here, Rich," Duncan assured him. "You're home. You're safe."

"Safe?" Richie needed to be sure.

"Aye lad," a strong hand stroked his hair gently. "You still pretty tired, huh?"

"Mmm."

"Go back to sleep, I'll keep watch."

"May I?" Richie asked wistfully. "I'm really sleepy. I'll do my chores in the morning. Honest."

"Shhh. Don't fret yourself. Rest now."

"Kay. Night."

"Sleep well, my bonnie lad."

***  
"You aren't going to make him wake up any faster by staring at him." Adam observed from the door way.

"Its been almost two days," Duncan protested. "He's done nothing _but_ sleep."

"That's not true," Adam corrected. "He's eaten a few bowls of broth and staggered to the bathroom and back, once or twice he's even managed to hold at least half a conversation, before he falls asleep again."

"He still hasn't told me what happened."

"He needs to rest. He doesn't need the Spanish Inquisition. He'll tell you when he's ready."

"But I need to know," Duncan protested, trying to keep his voice even. "For two days now, he's been nothing but yes sir and no sir. He doesn't speak unless he's spoken to. He does exactly what I tell him, when I tell him, without question. He's not even mentioned the fact that Walker told him he was pre-immortal and yesterday, when he knocked his shoulder on the doorframe, it must have hurt like hell and he said _shoot_."

"I take it he's usually a little more colourful?" Adam raised a brow.

"Its like living with .." Duncan broke off as Richie stirred. "Rich? Are you awake?"

Blue eyes opened to regard him steadily.

"Hey," Duncan smoothed his hair. "Can I get you anything?"

"Please may I have a drink of water?" Richie asked politely.

"Sure," Duncan reached over for the glass and helped him to drink. "How are you feeling?"

He held his breath, hoping for some typical smart mouthed Richie answer.

"Better. Thank you, for taking such good care of me." Richie assured him meekly.

"You feel ready for some real food yet?" Duncan encouraged. "How about a nice roast beef sandwich?"

Richie agreed, but he only managed to nibble at one quarter before casting worried looks at the Immortal.

"Its alright, Rich," Duncan sighed. "You don't have to finish it, if you don't want to."

***

"How is he?" The worry in Tessa's voice came clearly down the phone line. "Its been almost a week now."

"The physical wounds are healing," Duncan sighed, stood on the deck of the barge, looking out over the Seine. "He was well enough to rest on the couch for a few hours today."

"But he is still not himself?" Tessa surmised.

"Not even close," Duncan shook his head, even though Tessa couldn't see him. "Although, I suppose there has been _some _improvement." Duncan allowed himself a small smile. The healing wounds had been itchy and stiff, and the resulting discomfort had caused the teen to feel tetchy and irritable. The Immortal's steady presence, coupled with the comfort of familiar surroundings, had encouraged the odd spark, of the old Richie to surface. "He's being stubborn, again." He told Tessa with satisfaction.

She laughed, grateful for the small amusement. "I did not think I would ever see the day when you would say this was a good thing."

"No," Duncan agreed. "I should go, its time for his nap."

"Duncan!" Tessa laughed.

"Miss you, sweetheart."

"I miss you too, mon amour, " Tessa replied. "Give my love to Richie, too, will you?" she added a little sadly.

"I will," Duncan assured her.

Hanging up, he went in search of the teenager, who had again retreated to his room, curling up on his bed, with some of the motorcycle magazines Duncan had bought him.

"Hey, Tough Guy, Tessa sends her love."

Richie nodded, but didn't reply.

"Are you sure that you don't want to speak with her?" Duncan suggested, folding his arms. "She'd love to hear from you."

"Maybe, .. tomorrow." Richie hedged, as he had every day so far.

"Rich," Duncan sat down on the bed. Richie's colour was a lot better, and he looked far more alert. It was time to get a little more serious. "You know, you're going to have to talk about what happened sooner or later?"

"Why?" Richie asked quietly.

"Because you need to."

"No, I don't." Richie shook his head. "Walker is dead. Its over."

Duncan felt like he had been kicked in the gut. Of course, the lad would assume that Walker was safely dead.

"He is dead, you took his head, right?" Richie looked up.

Duncan swallowed hard, unwilling to admit the truth to Richie, or himself.

"Mac?" Richie's voice took on an edge of panic. "Please, tell me he's dead."

"I'm sorry, Rich," Duncan managed hoarsely, as all the colour drained from Richie's face. "Walker's still alive."


	18. Chapter Eighteen

AN – Thanks to everyone who reviewed or emailed me about this! Glad to know some people are still keeping up with it! Still on track, two more chapters to go!

***

"Alive?" Richie looked at Macleod as if he had grown two heads. "But he can't be .. there was a Quickening."

"That was the generator," Duncan winced. "Apparently, a beam fell on it and shorted it out, at the time I thought it was a Quickening. .. I was wrong."

"Wrong?" Richie repeated.

"Yeah." Duncan sighed.

"So, he just walked away?" Richie said hollowly.

"Rich, the place was in chaos, there was smoke everywhere, the fire was spreading, I barely managed to get you out in time, before the ceiling caved in. Adam narrowly escaped with his head. Walker won't get far, I swear."

"He's alive." Richie repeated woodenly.

"Not for long." Duncan vowed.

"You don't know that." Richie said softly.

"Rich, I'm not going to let him hurt you again," Duncan vowed. "This ends when I take his head."

"Yes sir." Richie murmured obediently.

"Richie .." Duncan sighed. He was being impatient, he knew that. But he wanted his lad back. The one who exasperated and infuriated him, the one who challenged him and kept him on his toes, the one who kept him in mind of the joys and agonies of youth and wasn't afraid to tell him he was being a bloody idiot. He tried to think of a treat for the lad. Something that Walker would never allow. "Are you hungry? What about that ice cream, I promised you?"

"Ice cream?" Richie looked up.

"With chocolate sauce," Duncan coaxed.

"And whipped cream?" Richie asked hopefully.

"I don't know if we have any whipped cream. I'll have to go out to the Store."

"You don't gotta. I don't want to be any trouble." Richie deflated again.

"Its no trouble," Duncan assured him, it was the first thing the lad had asked him for since he had been home. He wasn't about to disappoint him. "If you don't mind Adam's company for a while?"

"I'll probably just take a nap," Richie pushed aside the motorcycle magazines. "I'm pretty tired."

"Alright." Duncan waited until he had scooted down, before tucking around him. "Sleep well."

As he got to the door Richie's voice stopped him. "Mac?"

Duncan turned back to face him.

"Marc was still alive when you left, right?"

"Yes, he was." Duncan was glad to be able to offer that comfort at least.

"So, how long do you think he has before Walker kills him?" Richie asked flatly.

"Richie," Duncan sighed. The lad had a point. "Adam's already got his Watcher people out looking for Walker. We'll find him before it comes to that. I promise."

"Sure." Richie nodded.

"I won't be long."

Richie waited until he heard the Immortal walk over the roof and jump off onto the quay, before he climbed out of bed and reached under the bed for his knapsack.

***

He was almost finished. He hefted the bag gently. Not too heavy. Maybe he should take another sweater. It was still cold out.

"You don't want to do that."

Richie jumped about a foot in the air, spinning around to glare at Adam, before pulling a sweater out of his wardrobe.

"Just because you've seen me in my boxers, when you were playing Doctor, doesn't give you the right to tell me what to do."

"True." Adam sat down on the bed.

Richie paused in the action of stuffing the sweater into his bag.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm just sitting here." Adam said calmly.

"I am leaving," Richie warned him. "You can't stop me."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"Well, good." Richie carried on packing.

"Where will you go?"

"If you don't know, you can't tell Mac." Richie looked around to see if he had forgotten anything vital.

"And that makes it alright?"

Richie stopped and turned to face Adam. His face dark and serious. "Walker's not like Mac. He doesn't play by the rules. If Mac goes up against him, he might loose. I'm not going to stand by and let that happen,."

"So, you're gong to kill him yourself?" 

"I've done it before."

"But this time he'll be expecting it."

"I tell you what .. you tell me a way to convince Duncan Macleod of the Clan Macleod to play dirty and I'll get right back into bed, like a good little boy, .." Richie began.

"You'll do that anyway, my lad," Duncan's voice said sternly, from the doorway.

Richie spun around, his jaw hanging loose. Then he swung back to glower at Adam.

"You were stalling me." He realised.

"Hey, don't blame me," Adam smirked. "You were the one who fell for it."

***

Adam watched calmly as Duncan clattered and muttered his way around the small gallery, looking for a suitable dish.

"You know, you dour Scottish types really should learn to look on the bright side." He observed.

"If there's a bright side to any of this, I fail to see it." Duncan said shortly.

"Well, Richie's clearly feeling more like himself. He was positively petulant with you when you were putting him back to bed."

"That's true." Duncan agreed, extracting the ice cream from the freezer.

"And he's not speaking to me." Adam grinned.

"I think," Duncan rolled his eyes. "He's said more than enough to you for the moment."

"He does have an interesting range of vocabulary, doesn't he?" Adam acknowledged. "Did you teach him to cuss in Gaelic like that?"

"Not intentionally." Duncan said ruefully, spooning some fudge sauce into a jug and setting the microwave to warm it.

"Ah," Adam grinned. "He's bright kid."

"That he is." Duncan agreed.

"You didn't scold him for trying to sneak out on you."

"Didn't I?" Duncan said absently. He wondered if they had any chopped nuts.

"Or for swearing at me."

"No?"

"And he's still getting his ice cream, I see."

"Uh huh."

"Do you think it will work?"

"Do I think what will work?" Duncan hedged, busying himself making up a tray.

"Oh come on, Macleod," Adam rolled his eyes. "He's already feeling guilty over his behaviour, not to mention doubting you. You bombard him with kindness, he'll cave and tell you what that bastard did to him. Its an established interrogation technique."

"You think so?" Duncan arched a brow. "You know, I never thought of that."

"Of course, you didn't." Methos shook his head.

***

Duncan pushed the door open quietly, Richie was lying with his back to the door, curled awkwardly on his side, as if the welts across his shoulders were still bothering him.

"Rich?" He spoke gently.

With the careful movements, that had become second nature of late, Richie rolled over to look nervously at him. Duncan pretended not to notice how his eyes widened with surprise when he saw that the Immortal had still made him the hot fudge sundae.

"Scoot up."

Without a word, Richie complied, keeping one eye warily on the ice cream, as if afraid it would disappear.

"Here you go."

Duncan carefully set the tray down in his lap and offered him a spoon.

"Mac .." Richie swallowed hard, tears welling up in his eyes. He felt completely undone by the simple act of kindness. "God, you're a real bastard sometimes, Macleod."

"I know," Duncan smiled kindly at him. "Eat."

Richie ate, slowly at first, but then more eagerly. As he  forked up mouthfuls of the hot, sweet, treat, his pyjama sleeve slipped down, revealing a dark, yellowing bruise on his forearm. Noticing the direction of Duncan's gaze, Richie paused.

"How did you get that one?" Duncan asked casually, as if it was of no-importance.

"I fell."

"How did you fall?"

"Gravity."

"Did Walker hit you and make you fall?"

Richie paused. "Not exactly."

Duncan reached out and took Richie's free hand. "Tell me." He encouraged, with a gentle squeeze.

"I was trying to get away from him, I struggled and knocked myself against the corner of the sink," Richie gave him a quick, embarrassed look and glanced away again.

"He was washing you?"  Duncan was somewhat at a loss.

"He was washing  my mouth out .." Richie admitted reluctantly. "You know, with soap."

"Oh," Duncan realised.

"I tried to be good," Richie bit his lip, "I thought if I just kept my head down and did as he said, I could find a way to escape."

"Easier said than done?" Duncan suggested sympathetically.

"Yeah." Richie said bitterly.

"Rich, I've been a captive, more than once. I know how easy it is for one person to exert their power over another. Being helpless in the face of a stronger enemy is nothing to be ashamed of. It's a fact of life."

"Did your captors send you to bed without dessert if you didn't eat up all your veggies?" Richie asked fiercely. "Make you stand in the corner if you didn't do your chores, just right? Or hold out your hand for swats with the ruler because you couldn't figure out Latin verbs?"

Duncan knew better than to think that was the worst of it. He'd seen the marks.

"What else did he do?

"Nothing," Richie clammed up. "Just kid's stuff."

"Richie .."

"Its not like he got out the thumb screws." Richie looked at the wall.

 "He hurt you, Richie. The whys and the wherefores don't matter. He had no right to do that to you and I'll no stand by and see you blame yourself for that monster's actions. Do ye hear me?"

"Mac, please…" Richie sounded close to tears.

"Talk to me," Duncan reached out and seized Richie's jaw, forcing him to meet his eyes. "Tell me, Rich," he dropped his voice to a whisper. "Don't give Walker any more power over you, bonnie lad."

"He never stopped until I cried, he liked that."

"He spanked you?" Duncan slid his hand down, to cup his neck, silently offering support.

"Hairbrush," Richie nodded tightly.

"He used his belt too." Duncan added softly.

"Just that one time. I tried to run away. He locked me in the attic ..it had rats .. "

"Your feet?"

Richie nodded. "Yeah."

"How long were you in there?"

"A while," Richie pressed his lips together. "I thought that was it. I thought that was my punishment. But when he let me out he took off his belt and … God, I thought he was going to kill me .."

"He dammed near did." Duncan slipped his hand around Richie's neck and pulled him in, wrapping both arms around him and hugging him gently against his chest.

"I guess he thought it didn't matter," Richie's voice was slightly muffled. "Since he knew that he couldn't actually kill me. Not permanently, anyway."

He felt Mac tense.

"Did Walker tell you that?"

"Is it true? Am I going to be Immortal one day?"


	19. Chapter Nineteen

AN – Thank you all much for the emails and the reviews. Thanks especially to Southern Chickie for keeping me going when Richie was being very stubborn. This was not an easy chapter to write. I hope that I've resolved the issue to most peoples satisfaction. I'd love to know what you think. After this, offing Walker will be easy.

***

"Mac?" Richie pulled away from him and sat up, so he could look him in the eye. "Is it true? Am I going to be like you?"

Duncan closed his eyes. It would be so easily to lie to him. To tell him that it was just a ploy by Walker to turn them against each other. They could go on just as they were. Richie would believe him. He trusted him.

He wanted to, Lord how he wanted to.

"Not yet," He swallowed hard and opened his eyes. "But you will be .. one day."

Richie pressed his lips together tightly, and looked away, but not before Duncan had seen the glint of tears in his eyes. "Is that why you took me in?" he asked tightly.

"If it was, you'd have at least two sisters, right now." Duncan gave an awkward shrug.

"You know other people like me?" A touch of surprise.

"Rich, I don't know anyone else like you, but in four hundred years, I've met a lot of pre-immortals. I've never taken them into my home, into my heart, as I have you."

"So, where are they?" Richie asked flatly.

Duncan winced. This wasn't going well.

"I can't tell you that .."

Richie's head snapped around, his face tight with hurt and anger.

"I told you things .. things I've never told anyone, about school, my foster homes, _juvie_ .. and all that time you were laughing at me .."

"Richie, I would never, .."

"But you did. You let me believe that you trusted me .. "

"I do trust you."

"Yeah, just not enough to tell me about my own life!"

"Its what we do .." Duncan shrugged helplessly.

"That's your answer?" Richie looked at him incredulously, his voice rising. "Its what we do? You know, something, Macleod, you're just like every social worker I ever had. Its procedure. Its how things work. Its for your own good .."

"Richie, You're not listening to me!"

"Damn right, I'm not listening to you. I wish I'd never even met you," Richie turned his back on the Immortal. "Leave me alone!"

***

The Immortal presently masquerading as Adam Pierson mild mannered Watcher, sighed as he carefully, checked Richie's healing wounds. The kid's back was nicely pink, which meant there would be only minimal scarring. However, the boy's tense, stiff, posture indicated they had other problems.

"So, how long are you planning on punishing him for?" he asked, casually as he carefully pulled the T-shirt back down. "Days? Weeks? Months? Centuries?"

Richie flinched at that last. It was true. He could live for Centuries. So, long as no-one took his head.

God, he was scared.

"I'm not trying to punish him."

"You're not eating, you're not sleeping and you've barely said two words since he told you," He could have added, and even a blind man could see you've been crying.

"So, I'm having a bad day," Richie shrugged. "So, sue me."

"You must know by now that what hurts you, hurts Macleod. He's been up on deck for the past two hours, staring into the bottom of a glass of Scotch. If he goes up against Walker like that, he'll loose. Is that that you want?"

"It doesn't matter what I want," Richie retorted, "It never .." he  stopped

"Used to?" Adam suggested.

Richie realised that the annoying Immortal was right. What he wanted mattered a great deal to Mac  He knew that. Or, at least he used to.  
"He _lied _to me."

"He's never lied to you," Adam tried to be reasonable. "He just didn't tell you the whole truth."

"Like that line ever works when I use it." Richie scoffed.

"This isn't about sneaking the odd beer or two at some teenage orgy ..."

"I know that!" Richie snapped. "Don't you think I know that? I've seen enough Challenges since I've been hanging around with Mac."

"Then you should be able to see that Macleod was just trying to protest you."

"Protect me? If he wants to protect me, why I am wasting my time learning about Ming Vases? He should put a sword in my hand and teach me to fight!" Richie retorted. "At least, Walker gave Marc that chance."

"Walker was a blind fool," Adam corrected. "Putting a sword in the hands of a pre-immortal, is tantamount to signing his death warrant. When Immortals fight, we fight to the death. Every stroke needs to count, even in practise wounds are common and death is a definite possibility. If you learn to fight as a pre-immortal, you're taught to pull your blade before you inflict harm. Those instincts, once ingrained, are bloody hard to undo. Not to mention that it attracts entirely the wrong sort of attention."

"Mac learnt to fight when he was mortal." Richie said sulkily.

"And then had four centuries to perfect his technique. With the Gathering upon us, you don't have that luxury. You need to get it right, first time."

"That's comforting." Richie gave him a sour look.

"Macleod is an excellent teacher," Adam assured him. "One who will do whatever it takes to ensure you survive .. even if it means you end up hating him."

"I don't hate him." Richie managed softly. "I just .." he struggled to explain his feelings. "I can't die! He knows I can't die. Its like all those times that he worried over me when I was hurt or in danger were such a crock."

"A crock?" Adam raised a brow.

"Yeah, dumb, huh?" Richie looked away. "But it still hurts."

"You die at seventeen, your body hasn't finished growing," Adam told him bluntly. "You'll never have the weight, or the mass, of a fully grown adult. It'll make you smaller and weaker than your opponents, and it'll only be a matter of time before someone takes your head."

"Oh." Richie swallowed hard.

Belatedly, Adam realised. Macleod wouldn't thank him for scaring the kid out of his wits. "Macleod's kept himself alive for four hundred years. I'm sure he can manage to get you past puberty." He smirked.

"Gee, you think?" Richie scowled.

"Why don't you go and talk to him?" Adam suggested.

"I still don't understand, why he didn't just tell me," Richie complained. "Its not like I didn't already know about the Game .. about Immortals."

"Maybe because he was afraid of how you would react?" Adam arched a brow.

"That's not fair," Richie protested. "If he had just told me in the beginning .."

"You would never have believed him."

"Well, OK, maybe not right at the beginning, but he could have told me before now .."

"This isn't a conversation you can have over your Wheaties," Adam scoffed. "And besides, what good would it have done? Made you more reckless than you already are? Convinced you that Macleod was just out for your head? Or robbed you of your last chance at a relatively normal family life?"

"But, I would have _known .." Richie insisted, half heartedly._

"And are you better off, now that you do know?" Adam asked, eying the kid's drawn expression sceptically. 

Richie gave him a quick, terrified, glance, and looked away.

"Thought not." Adam sighed. "You need to talk to Macleod."

"What makes you think I'm over being mad at him, yet?"

"Because, I'm very old and wise." Adam said loftily.

"Yeah?" Richie perked up. "How old?"

_Oh Buggar._

"Older than Macleod." Adam thought that would cover it.

"How _much_ older?"

Or maybe not.

***

"Mac?" Richie hovered uncertainly behind the brooding Immortal. "Is this a good time?"

"Go inside Richie," Duncan told him shortly. "Its too cold for you to be out here."

"You're out here," Richie sat down beside him. "Besides, it can't kill me, right?"

"It can still kill you," Duncan retorted gruffly, shrugging out of his thick leather coat and wrapping it brusquely around the teen's shoulders. "Just not permanently."

Richie bit his lip and tried not to wince as the stiff material scraped across tender new skin. The fervent Gaelic curse from beside him, suggested that he had not been entirely successful in hiding his reaction. The next thing he knew, he felt an icy blast of air on his back as both jacket and shirt was pulled up to check the healing welts.

"Mac, its OK .." he tried to twist around, to look at the Immortal.

 "Hold still," Duncan ordered, his hands warm and gentle across Richie's shoulders.  

"Mac, I'm fine .." Richie winced as Duncan's fingers probed a particularly sensitive spot. "Or, I would be if you'd stop poking at me. C'mon Mac, I'm freezing to death here."

"What are you doing out here, Richie?" Duncan tucked his clothes back into place.

"I wanted to give you these."

Richie reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a small leather rolled bundle.

"Its your lock picks." Duncan realised.

"Actually, it's an apology," Richie confessed. "Sort of."

"Rich .."

"I know you thought, I didn't have them anymore.  But .. well I wasn't all that sure that I wouldn't need them again one day. So, I hung onto them, kind of an insurance policy .. in case things didn't work out. Then, I realised that it was gonna work out, but I didn't know how to tell you I still had them, cos then you'd know that I thought maybe it wouldn't."

"You wanted to tell me, but it never seemed like the right time?" Duncan's heart leap with hope as he thought he saw where the lad was going with this.

"Yeah," Richie gave a rueful shrug. "I guess, sometimes, there's never a right time, huh?"

"Rich .." Duncan had to swallow hard. Impressed beyond measure that the teenager could see beyond his own anger, pain and fear to consider the Immortal's position.

"No, hear me out," Richie asked. "All my life I've been surrounded by people who thought they knew what was best for me. They made the decisions, but I had to live with the consequences. They never thought about what I needed. That's not you Mac."

"You had a right to be upset, Richie."

"Did I?" Richie asked softly. "You're a good guy Mac. The best. You've never done anything but look out for me. You've always trusted me. How many times do you have to prove that? I'm angry with every foster parent or social worker who ever made me feel that I wasn't someone whose opinion you asked. Not with you. And I'll be dammed if I'll let the likes of Walker or Mrs Fraser, or any other adult who ever screwed me over, stop me from seeing that what we have is different."

"You know, you're growing up pretty fast," Duncan complimented him..

"Does that mean you'll put in a good word for me with Amanda?" Richie managed, aware that his ears had turned bright pink.

"Ask me in a century or two." Duncan ruffled his hair. "Here," he pressed the lock picks back into his hand. "You keep them. Our kind don't always have the luxury of full disclosure with the authorities. You never know when you might need them."

***

Duncan studied Richie carefully, as he carried the two mugs of hot chocolate over to the sofa. Methos had tactfully made himself scare in the small galley, chopping and peeling with almost manic precision, as he made something hot and Mexican for dinner.

"Here," Duncan offered the cup, not missing the way that Richie started slightly.

"Thanks." Richie said, reaching out to wrap his chilled hands around the warm mug gratefully.

"You're welcome."

Duncan sank down on the sofa, beside him and took a sip of his own drink before looking over at Richie.

"So, how are you doing with this?"

"We're cool, Mac," Richie assured him. "I mean, Walker never told Marc squat. You told me you were Immortal. You told me about the Game. Not to mention you seem hell bent on introducing me to every Immortal friend you've ever met .."

"And a few of my enemies." Duncan murmured.

"I saw Walker first."

"I'll give you that," Duncan conceded. "Although, that does not mean that you have to take matters into your own hands .."

"Ah, about that," Richie blushed slightly. "I never meant you couldn't beat him .. not as such .."

"Richie. I'll deal with it."

"He's dangerous Mac."

"Yeah? So am I." Duncan vowed darkly. "But, that's not what I meant before, and you know it."

Richie shifted slightly on the sofa and looked down at the mug in is hands.

"If I didn't die .. I mean if I lived to be about seventy or something, could I die in my sleep and not be Immortal?"

"Is that what you want?"

"I don't know what I what," Richie ran a hand through his hair. "I always thought it would be so cool to be Immortal. The things I'd do. The places I'd see. The people I'd meet."

"You mean girls don't you?" Duncan rolled his eyes.

"It was a teenage fantasy," Richie defended himself.  "Pretty girls, in teeny tiny bikinis come with the territory. I never actually thought it would happen. Immortals are guys like you and Connor. Born to the sword, able to take the wings off a gnat at forty paces, With centuries of experience under your belts. Not me."

"No one is born with centuries of experience under their belts." Duncan reassured.

"Will you be my teacher?" Richie asked shyly. "Like Connor was yours?"

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Will you teach me to kill?" Richie asked, blankly.

"I'll teach you to survive," Duncan corrected. "And rule number one, is if you don't have to fight, then don't. But sometimes, there is no alternative."

"What if I can't?" Richie looked up at him, his eyes wide. "What if I'm standing there with my sword at their neck and I just .. can't do it?"

 "Richie, none of us were born Immortal. And we all had to learn to kill in the way of our kind."

"That's something to look forward to." Richie looked slightly green.

"Hey," Duncan nudged him fondly. "You .."

Suddenly, he broke off, eyes scanning the immediate vicinity with an intensity that Richie recognised all too well.

"Oh man," Richie realised. "Please tell me it isn't .."

Duncan was already surging to his feet.

"Walker." He hissed.


	20. Chapter Twenty

AN- Thank you for the reviews, I'm glad to know that some loyal people are still sticking with this and its always great to see some new faces. Grateful as ever to Southern Chickie for her input, personally I was just gonna send Methos out for beer!, and Lori, I'll get to that stuff we discussed in the next Chapter .. OK, so I fibbed, this is going to be a bit longer than I thought. There's going to be at least one more chapter, maybe two, after this. Hope that's OK.

***

"Stay there, Richie," Duncan ordered curtly, as he picked up the Katana and crossed the room in three long sides. Just as he made it to the door, thee came a hesitant knock.

"Do your enemies usually knock?" Adam asked curiously, emerging from the galley, his own blade at the ready.

"Sometimes," Duncan replied tightly. "Not usually though."

"It's Marc!" Richie exclaimed, leaning over to peer out of a porthole. "And, it looks like he's hurt."

"Damn," Duncan swore fervently. Flicking the Katana up and sheathing it under his arm, he stepped up to the door and opened it, only to have Marc practically fall through, instinctively Duncan reached out to steady him, causing the young Immortal to hiss with pain. Bringing his blade around Duncan used the point of the Katana to ease open the long leather coat to reveal trails of blood and half healed sword cuts. 

"Please, help me," Marc looked up at him, with eyes wide and scared. "He tried to kill me."

Adam stepped forward and closed the door, before turning to face Marc.

"Then why didn't he?" 

"What?" Marc blinked at him.

"Why didn't he kill you?" Adam repeated. "Your father is a seasoned Immortal, with a number of Quickenings to his name. If he wanted to kill you, he would have."

"We were interrupted," Marc shook his head. "These people came by .. I saw my chance and I ran .. " He looked back at Duncan. "I'm sorry, I didn't know where else to go. I don't have a sword. Hell, I don't have a clue. And Richie always spoke so highly of you."

"Did he now?" Even in these circumstances, Duncan felt a warm glow. He flashed the pre-Immortal a small smile. "Thanks, Rich."

"We can help him, right Mac?" Richie asked hopefully.

Duncan hid his smile at the "we." "You can stay here, for now." He agreed.

"Thanks Mac, you're the best!" Richie gave him a quick, impulsive, hug, which caught Duncan off guard. Then he looked back at Marc. "C'mon, I'll show you where the bathroom is and I'm sure Mac has something that'll fit you. That's alright, isn't it Mac ..?" Richie's head swivelled back and forth.

"Sure." Duncan allowed.

"Thank you, Mr Macleod." Marc said quietly.

Duncan nodded wordlessly.

"C'mon, its right this way .." Richie dragged him off.

Adam waited until he was sure the teenagers were out of earshot. 

"Are you sure that was wise?"

"He'll be safer here, until this is over," Duncan shrugged. "Then I'll find him a Teacher. Maybe, Connor can undo some of the harm Walker has done."

"He'd be safer with Darius on Holy Ground," Adam pointed out. "You're doing this because Richie asked you."

"Yes," Duncan saw nothing wrong in that.

Adam sighed, as the Highlander walked off to find some clothes for Marc to wear.

"Why?" He asked no one in particular, "Do I have the feeling that this is going to get so much worse, before it gets better?"

***

In fact, nothing happened. At least, not at first. It was, he reflected, rather like waiting for the other shoe to drop.

The trouble was, with Immortals, that could take centuries.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" Duncan asked, rather testily, as he strode through the lounge area, to find Adam sprawled on the couch, with a beer. Again.

"Right now?" Adam considered that. "Nope."

"You could give me a hand, you know?"

Adam eyed him over the top of his beer bottle. "How is Marc doing today?"

"About the same," Duncan made a face, ducking into the galley. "We're still sparring with the practise swords." He called back.

"That good?" Adam muttered. He raised his voice. "Its been almost a week."

"He has a lot to unlearn," Duncan tried to excuse him as he emerged, clutching two bottles of water, and a can of soda. "And Walker taught him nothing about having a feel for the blade. He'll learn."

"He has to," Adam noted baldly.

Duncan used that thought to focus him though the afternoon as time and again Marc fluffed the counter attack they had been working on.

"You need to attack!" Duncan urged, when he failed yet again.

"I'm trying," Marc responded sulkily.

"Look," Duncan held onto his patience. "When he has you here, you step back and .." with a deft twist and turn, his wooden stick was at Marc's neck.

"Its too hard!" The teenager pushed the stick away, in irritation. "I can't do it."

"Sure you can," Richie encouraged from his vantage point on the wall. "You just have to follow all the way through."

Marc turned and stalked towards him, holding out the staff in challenge, "You think its so easy? You do it."

"Look," Richie hopped down off his perch and took the sword. "Like this." He sketched the move in the air with a fluency and grace that made Duncan blink and stand up a little straighter. 

"Its not the same when someone is slashing and poking at you." Marc pointed out snidely.

Richie's face fell. "I guess not." 

Duncan frowned. Richie would have to go up against Immortals centuries older than him. He needed confidence in his own abilities. It wouldn't do for the lad to get despondent before he had even started. And it wasn't as if they were using real swords.

"Well, let's see shall we?"

With a smile of invitation he held his practise sword at the ready. At first, Richie's eyes widened with surprise, but then his expression melted into a pleased grin.

"Have at you .. Highlander .." he affected a foppish accent, moving into the en-garde position.

"Richie," Duncan rolled his eyes. "Just do it."

Even allowing for the fact that he had profited from watching Marc's lessons, Duncan did not expect Richie to get the move right first time. Nor did Richie, if the look of shocked surprise on his face was anything to go by as he touched the smooth wood to the Immortal's neck.

"I did it!" his expression split into an astonished grin as Duncan smiled his agreement, he spun around to look elatedly at Marc, "I did it!"

"Daddy's little soldier," Marc sneered. With a disgruntled snort he stalked off in the direction of the barge.

"Marc?" Richie's face fell and he turned back to Duncan in obvious confusion.

Duncan considered his dilemma. Marc's attitude was way out of line and he _would _deal with that later. But it wouldn't do to encourage a rift between the boys. He didn't want Richie collecting enemies before he had even joined the Game. He made a face. "He has a lot to deal with, right now." He tried to excuse. 

"And I shouldn't have rubbed his face in it," Richie sank back down onto the wall, looking miserable. "Man, I'm an idiot. When am I ever going to learn, not to mouth off and piss people off. Especially, sword wielding types."

"Hey," Duncan stepped over. He wasn't about to allow Richie to blame himself for this mess. "You did good, Rich. You listened and you leant. If Marc has a problem with that, then that's his problem .. and mine. Its not for you to worry about." He rubbed the teen's neck comfortingly, causing him to look up, his eyes bright and uncertain. "You fought well, Rich." He repeated, dropping his hand to his shoulder and giving it a squeeze. "I'm proud of you, lad."

"Proud of me?" Richie gave him a sceptical look. "For that?"

"Sure, why not?"

"Aw c'mon Mac," Richie retorted. "I poked you with a stick! Its hardly a duel to the death."

Duncan sighed.

"Rich, you don't have to do everything, all at once. Do you have any idea how you it took me to learn that move? You executed it perfectly. First time too. In my book that's something to be proud of."

"But I knew," Richie countered. "I knew, it wasn't real."

***

"How long has it actually been since you had a student?" Adam asked curiously, watching Duncan pace.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Duncan stopped to look at him. 

"Its different for youngsters today. They aren't born to the sword, brought up to the realities of death as we were."

"They also don't usually know what lies ahead," Duncan countered. "God willing, it will be years, decades, before Richie has to face up to whether or not he can kill in the way of our kind. Am I just going to let him dwell on it for all that time? What's that going to do to his confidence?"

"You could let him practise on Marc." Adam suggested wickedly.

"Not funny," Duncan scrubbed at his face. "Which reminds me, Marc and I are due a little talk. Where is he?"

"Last time I saw him, he was sulking up in the prow," Adam told him. "Richie took him a sandwich to soak up all the beer he's been drinking."

"Beer?" Duncan's expression darkened.

"My beer, actually." Adam pouted.

"And it didn't occur to you that letting Richie within five feet of Marc when he was feeling jealous and resentful and drunk was, I don't know, not a good idea?" Duncan was already halfway out the door.

"Ah well, when you put it like that." Adam followed.

***

By the looks of the bottles littered around Marc's feet, he'd had more than a few beers. But Duncan was far more worried about the wide eyed look of shock on Richie's face as he pressed his hand up against the thin sword cut on his cheek.

"Marc." He very deliberately drew the Katana out of his coat, it was time to teach his temporary student a different kind of lesson. "Step away from him."

Marc turned his head, his eyes immediately drawn to the sword.

"Adam," Duncan's tone was expressionless. "Take Richie inside and have a look at that cut will you?"

"Mac," Richie responded to what he knew the Immortal was feeling. "I'm OK, its just a scratch."

"Go inside Rich," Duncan instructed. "I'll be along in a minute."

"Mr Macleod," Marc took a step back. "It was an accident, I was upset, I didn't mean .."

"An Immortal doesn't have the luxury of letting his emotions get away from him," Duncan advanced. "Especially, where mortals are concerned."

"I'll be more careful." Marc assured him nervously.

"Mac," Richie was resisting Adam's attempts to shepherd him away. "What are you doing?"

Bringing the Katana up in a swift arc that made Marc flinch, Duncan laid the blade lengthways under his neck, forcing his chin up to meet his eyes.

"Just making a point," Duncan pressed the blade lightly into Marc's neck, causing the smallest trickle of blood to run down his neck. "A lack of control, is a sure way to loose your head. Do I make myself, clear?"

"Yessir," Marc met his eyes. "I understand exactly where you are coming from now."

"Good," Duncan dropped his blade and started to turn towards Richie, only to spin back at the sound of Marc's sword whistling through the air, bringing the Katana up so the swords met in mid air in a shower of sparks.

"What the hell, are you doing?" Duncan yelled.

"He was right," Marc retorted, cutting and parrying with a desperation that forced Macleod to defend. "He said you couldn't be trusted."

"Your father?" Duncan hazarded, as he sidestepped a particularly wild swing.

"He said you wouldn't care about me," Marc didn't notice that he was being manoeuvred into the confined space at the very front of the prow. "He said, there was only one way, that I was going to survive as an Immortal, and that was to take your Quickening!"

"And, how, exactly, were you planning on doing that?" Adam asked, from the sidelines.

"Like this." Triumphantly, Marc pulled out a sleek black gun and pulled the trigger.

He was the only one who was surprised when it failed to fire.

"Mac's a nice guy, you know," Richie was the first to speak. "But he's not stupid, and just so you know, you're not allowed to use a gun. Its against the rules."

"But .. how?" Marc looked in confusion at the useless metal in his hands.

"We took the bullets out," Adam offered. "That usually does the trick."

"You knew I had it all along?" Marc blinked.

"Yeah, and even so, Mac took you in, took care of you, tried to teach you," Richie spoke up. "Because he doesn't think you oughta be punished because your Dad is a jerk. But sooner or later, you gotta make your own choices Marc. You can't hide behind your childhood all your life. I've learnt that myself." He gave a sheepish shrug.

"So, what is it to be?" Adam asked.

In answer, Marc threw down the gun.

"Then consider this a warning," Duncan told him, lining the point of the Katana up against his heart and exerting just a touch of pressure. "Your only warning. Threaten me or mine again and expect no mercy. Understood?"

Marc nodded.

"Your word on it." Duncan insisted.

"I promise."

"Then we'll not speak of this again," Duncan smoothly withdrew the Katana, and very deliberately turned his back, as he went over to check on Richie.

Marc hesitated, but then he glanced up, in the direction of the bridge and with a sudden surge of courage Marc raised his sword and rushed headlong at Macleod's unprotected back.

"Mac!" Richie cried in alarm.

But Duncan was already turning, bringing his sword up to meet Marc's blade. A deft twist of the Katana and Marc's blade flew out of his hand to disappear under the water of the Seine. A second turn and the Katana was pressed hard up against Marc's throat, forcing his eyes upward to meet the angry glare of the Highlander.

"He said .." Marc babbled, trying to see around the Highlander to the bridge. "He said he'd help me kill you ..."

"You're only warning." Duncan reminded him coldly, kicking him in the stomach hard enough to send him sprawling, pausing only to shift his weight to deliver the two handed blow, Duncan took his head.

"You know, Macleod," Adam commented, as his eyes also caught some movement up on the bridge. "I suddenly have a very bad feeling about all this."

As the power of Marc's Quickening rose and gathered, Duncan raised his head to reply, only to see the look of shock on Adam's face, as a bullet from the high calibre rifle entered his back and ripped through his chest, crimson blood blossoming, on his cream sweater.

"One down," a voice shouted. "One to go."

"Walker," Duncan instinctively turned towards the voice, only to be brought to his knees as the power of the Quickening hit. And in the vestige of his mind that was not overwhelmed with the images, memories and senses, he knew that when it was over he would be spent and helpless.

And utterly defenceless.


	21. Chapter Twenty One

AN – Thank you so much for all the reviews so far, feedback really encourages us authors to keep writing. And Laurakkc I probably will archive this at 7th Dimension when its done. Thanks to Southern Chickie and Lori for letting me bounce ideas off them, hope you guys like how it turned out. I know some of you have been waiting a while for events in this Chapter .. (big grin) hope you enjoy!

***

It may not have been the strongest Quickening Duncan had ever had, but it was enough. Even as the thrall ran through him, he was aware when Walker came into range. But he was powerless to do anything about it, as his body arched under the powerful forces. As the last tendrils of the ice blue energy sparked and fizzled around his body, he struggled against its thrall to life his sword.

To no avail.

He was as weak and helpless as a newborn.

"You canna," he rasped, raising his eyes to meet the advancing Immortal. "Tis against the rules."

"Oh, but I can," Walker sneered down at him, as he lifted his foot and planted it on the wavering tip of the Katana, easily pinning it to the ground. "You didn't think I was actually going to fight you, did you?"

"You planned this," Duncan realised. "You knew, Marc would ignore my warning."

Walker chuckled. "Of course, I did. I told him to. I said, all he had to do was lure you out and I'd put a bullet in your back, the little imbecile actually believed that I'd let him take a Quickening as powerful as yours for himself."

"You sacrificed your own lad!" Duncan was appalled. "So, that you could take me."

"Oh please," Walker sneered. "Its not like he was my flesh and blood."

"You loved him once." Duncan taunted.

"I thought he had promise, I was mistaken," Walker raised his sword, "As are you Highlander, if you think you can keep me talking long enough to recover your strength."

"Why like this?" Duncan spoke in desperation. "Why not just shoot me?"

"Now, where would be the fun in that? I wouldn't get to see your face as I killed you."

Walker's blade swept downwards, only to be blocked in with a ring of steel against steel. Duncan looked up in surprise to stare into Richie's set, determined features, clutching Adam's Ivanhoe, as if his life depended on it..

"Leave him alone!"

Walker's mouth curled up into the approximation of a smile.

"You think you can best me boy?"

"Richie, .. no .. don't!" Duncan, worried for his safety, again struggled to rise, but only served to expend his depleted reserves of energy.

"I'm not going to just stand by and watch him kill you, Mac." Richie's tone was tight, as he struggled to hold the blade in place against Walker's superior strength.

 "And how, exactly, are you going to stop me?" Walker scoffed, bringing his sword up under Richie's and casting it off with such force that Richie staggered a few steps, before he could balance the blade.

"Whatever it takes." Richie moved to stand protectively in front of Duncan, keeping wary eyes on Walker, sword at the ready.

"Richie," Duncan forced himself to his knees. "Get behind me."

"Mac, shut up, will ya?" Richie managed, as Walker brought his sword down, a look of mild surprise flashing across face as Richie met his blade. "I'm kinda busy here."

"You can't kill me, I'm your father." Walker declared.

"You think?" Richie scoffed. "You don't know the meaning of the word. Mac's a far better Dad than you ever were."

 "You arrogant young whelp .." Walker lunged, sending Richie scooting sideways, narrowly avoiding a nasty slice across his ribs.

"Better than being pond scum," Richie taunted, as he brought his own sword around to slice Walker's stomach, only to have his blow easily blocked. The Immortal pressed his advantage, pushing Richie back, the teenager risked a quick, anxious, look behind him as he struggled to hold the Immortal at bay, if he went over the side there would be nothing to stop Walker, taking Mac's head. The momentary distraction was his undoing, Walker's blade sliced hard through his thigh, bringing him to his knees. 

"Richie!" Duncan's voice gasped, hoarse with pain and fear for his lad. 

"I have you now." Walker gloated, twisting his sword around, preparing to bring the pommel down, intent on sending Richie into unconsciousness.. 

As Richie looked up through pain filled eyes, he knew that he had lost. That Mac had lost.

He couldn't live with that.

In terror and regret Richie swung wildly with the Ivanhoe, catching Walker a lucky blow across the stomach. As the Immortal pitched forward Richie brought the sword down across his exposed neck, his eyes widening with shock and surprise as the head separated from the body.

Staggering wildly backwards, he almost tripped on Mac's prone form, his jaw falling open as he landed hard on his butt, his eyes still fixed on the decapitated head.

"Daaad .." he wailed.

Even as he spoke, the thin tendrils of the Quickening began to gather, causing Richie to move backwards in fear and confusion, hissing in pain as the torn cartilage and damaged muscles in his thigh complained.

Summoning all his strength, Duncan dragged himself over to place himself between Richie and Walker's form, shielding the teenager from both the sight of Walker's corpse and the maelstrom that was to come, as the Quickening spiralled and sought out the nearest conduit of a fully fledged Immortal. Coming directly on top of Marc's Quickening, Walker's knocked him flat, as the air buckled and cracked with power and energy, determined to force its way into his body, racing thorough every vein, every pore, every fragment of his being, until he lay sprawled on the wet ground, spent and helpless. And all that time, all he could see was Richie's wide eyed, terrified features, in the second before he took Walker's head.

Lifting his head groggily, Duncan saw Richie sitting stock still, staring straight ahead. Still fighting the residual effects of the double Quickening, Duncan began to crawl laboriously to over to the teenager's side. 

"Rich?" he rasped, reaching out a hand, to touch Richie's shoulder.

Then something unexpected happened.

As he extended his hand, a tendril of the Quickening still fizzing around his system arced out of his fingertips and spiralled around Richie's bicep, snaking down his arm, to twist around his palm and disappear into his splayed fingers.

"Youch!"

Richie jumped, yelping with pain, even as he snatched his hand to his chest, swearing fervently under his breath.

"Rich!" Duncan cried, alarmed. "Are ye alright?"

"Of course, I'm not alright," Richie protested, cradling the injured hand. "What _the hell_ was that?"

"I'm not sure," Duncan admitted, reaching out. "Let me see your hand."

"Don't touch me, _again_!" Richie turned sharply out of reach.

"Sorry," Duncan apologised, sitting back on his knees, holding his hands up out of harms way. "Show me your hand, Rich."

Nervously, Richie peeled the hand from his chest and held it out in front so they could both inspect the injured palm.

"Ouch," Duncan winced sympathetically at the angry burn rising in a painful blister. "We need to get you inside. Can you stand?"

Richie considered that, "Yeah, I think so."

Somewhat shakily, pressing his uninjured hand to his bleeding thigh, he struggled his way to his feet, Duncan watched, clenching his fists at his helplessness as Richie's trembling muscles caused him to stumble and sway slightly, before he finally righted himself.

"OK, standing." Richie gave him a weak smile, his breathless tone indicating how much the manoeuvre had cost him.

"Good," Duncan gave him a tight smile, forcing himself, rather shakily, to his own feet. "Do you think you can walk?"

"What about ..?" Richie tiled his head, studiously not looking at Walker's corpse, or his severed head.

"I'll take care of that," Adam came up beside them, swiping at the wet, dirty, patches on his overcoat. "You go with Macleod. I didn't spend all that time patching you up only to have you keel over now. Either of you." He cast a critical look at Duncan.

"Its been a busy day." Duncan sighed.

"Um." Keeping on hand pressed against his bleeding wound, and the other held out in front of him, Richie nodded helplessly at the discarded Ivanhoe. "I borrowed your sword. Sorry."

"Don't be," Adam retrieved the sword. "Use keeps the  blade sharp."

Richie paled noticeably.

"Oh, very smooth," Duncan muttered under his breath. "Didn't Darius ever teach you about subtlety?" 

Adam blinked.

"Darius wasn't my teacher. What ever made you think he was?"

Duncan gave him a sharp look, but Richie swayed violently, reminding the Highlander that he had other concerns right now.

"Hey," Trusting that the worst of the Quickening was past, as he felt his strength returning, Duncan reached out to steady the lad. "You alright?"

To relief nothing else untoward sparked between then, but Richie sagged heavily in his grasp, causing Duncan to take most of his weight.

"Rich?"

"I feel .." Richie closed his eyes tight. "I can hear him .. I can feel him .. I don't like this Mac .." his voice rose with terror and panic. "Its Walker. He's inside me. Make it stop. Please, make it stop."


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

AN- This always works out shorter in my head than it does on paper! So, here's the next instalment. Thanks for reading and reviewing all this time. I think there's one more chapter left. But hey, I've been wrong before.

**

Duncan stifled a curse when he realised what must have happened. Somehow, in that tendril of Quickening, Richie had absorbed some of Walker's memories. Placing a hand on either side of his head, he gently tipped Richie's face upwards so he could look into his eyes.

"Its alright. Its normal. Don't worry, it'll pass."

Mindful of the lad's injuries, he drew him gently into his chest, wrapping his arms around him, offering comfort, security, safety. Only when he met Adam's eyes over Richie's head did he allow his concern to show. He had never heard of a pre-immortal taking any part of a Quickening before and he had no idea of what to expect.

"Don't look at me." Adam shrugged.

"Thanks." Duncan said dryly.

The sound of a distant police siren brought them both back to the present reality.

"Oh Lord, that's all we need." Duncan sighed.

"Two Quickenings in broad daylight, in the middle of one of the post populated cities on earth?" Adam raised a brow. "You don't think that's going to attract a little  bit of attention?"

"Mac?" Richie looked up, his expression fearful. "Am I gonna go to jail?"

"Its alright Rich," Duncan soothed. "Its nothing for you to worry about."

"You'd better take him inside, before he bleeds to death." Adam pointed out. 

"What about ..?" Duncan nodded at the two headless corpses.

"I'll deal with it." Adam assured him. "There are some advantages of being in the Watchers. Marc's body will probably turn up some distance from here. Which will, at least, allow his mother to give him a decent burial. When Walker fails to turn up, suspicion for the murder will naturally fall on him."

"What about Walker's body?"

"It will be disposed of." Adam said curtly. "Without any tangible evidence to the contrary, it won't be difficult to convince the police that the lightening was just some freak weather condition. For now."

 "I'm going to have to move again, aren't I?" Duncan sighed.

"There is a reason why we don't usually conduct our business on our own doorsteps." Adam agreed.

"Better take this," Duncan shrugged out of his coat. "Yours has a big hole in the back."

* * *

  


"Alright," Duncan settled Richie on the couch, reaching over for a cushion to elevate his leg. "Just hold on a second. I'll be right back."

"No, Mac!" Richie's voice came out thin with panic. "Please, don't leave me alone with him."

"Richie," Duncan sat down on the couch and put a hand on his shoulder. "Walker's dead. He can't hurt you anymore."

"But I can .. feel .. him." Richie protested.

"I know," Duncan acknowledged. "You remember that when we take another's head, we take their strength, their power?"

"Mac, I'm not Immortal yet. If I was, I wouldn't be bleeding all over the couch."

Duncan wondered how he was going to explain something that he didn't even understand himself.

"You're not bleeding that much," He made a quick check of the wound. Luckily, Walker's sword had sliced crosswise, rather than deep into muscle and bone but it would still need stitches. "Look, let's get you fixed up and then we'll talk, OK?"

Visibly gathering his courage, Richie nodded.

Duncan gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder and went to quickly gather together what he would need, being mindful to keep up a conversation, so that Richie could still hear him, in those moments when he could not see him.

"I was thinking," he improvised. "When Tessa comes home, maybe we could all go on a vacation. Have a bit of a holiday. Would you like that?"

There was a brief silence.

"Where?" Richie's voice sounded slightly strained.

"I don't know," Duncan tried to move a little faster.  "Where would you like to go?"

No response.

"Rich?"

"Daad." Richie whimpered.

Racing back to the couch, Duncan found the teen curled up on the couch, with his hands pressed over his ears, as if to block out the voices. Or rather, a voice.

"Richie. Richie!" Realising that the lad couldn't hear him, Duncan gently prised his hands away from his ears. "Its alright, I'm here."

"Make it stop," Richie begged, throwing himself into the surprised Immortal's arms. "Please make it stop. I can hear him and I can feel him. Its like he's inside me. And he's all anger and hatred, so much, and it _hurts_."

"Hey, hey, its alright," Duncan patted his back, comfortingly. "Its just memories, Rich, its not real."

"Sure as hell, feels real." Richie sniffed, against his chest.

"I know," Duncan acknowledged, ruefully. "But you're in control here, Rich. You take what you want from a Quickening and the rest will fade."

"Take?" Richie frowned. "Like what?"

"Whatever you need, sometimes swordplay, maybe languages, can be a whole range of skills."

"I don't wanna be like him."

"You won't be," Duncan assured him. "You're definitely unique." He tousled his hair.

Richie laughed.

"Feeling better?" Duncan asked gently.

"Yeah," Richie agreed shyly. "It helps when you're here."

"How's the patient?" Adam bounded down the stairs.

"Bearing up." Duncan gave Richie an encouraging smile, as the lad snuffed and swiped an arm across his face, in an attempt to pretend that he hadn't been crying.

"That leg will need stitches." Adam observed, as he sat on the arm of the couch.

Duncan had chosen not to ask where Adam had acquired his medical supplies. Richie reluctantly allowed the two Immortals to switch places, so he could work. But he only relaxed when Duncan settled back behind him, wrapping his arms around him in a gentle grip. He sat quietly as Adam administered a shot, before he carefully cleaned up the wound, deftly closing it with a few, neat, stitches.

Glancing up, Adam saw that Richie's expression was drawn and tight.

"You alright?"

"Yeah," Richie nodded. Although, his eyes said differently.

"The first kill is always hard." Adam cut straight to the chase. Ignoring the look of thunder that Macleod shot him over Richie's shoulder. 

"I'm glad I killed him." Richie said flatly.

Reading the consternation on Duncan's face, Adam kept his tone carefully neutral. The sentiment was understandable, but it was a dark path for one as young and inexperienced as Richie.

"Oh?"

"He was gonna kill Mac. I couldn't just stand there," He twisted around a little to look his mentor in the face. "You would have done the same for me."

"He has you there." Adam smiled, as he set to work on Richie's raw and blistered palm.

"You're not helping." Duncan pointed out.

"Hey," Adam looked up from his doctoring. "I'm helping." He looked at Richie. "You see me helping here, don't you?"

"Rich, I know you thought Walker probably wouldn't kill you, but you knew  he would hurt you, didn't you?"

"Mac, don't you get it? I didn't care about him, or me," Richie looked away, embarrassed. "I just cared about you."

"You saved my life, you know." Duncan said softly.

"Mac, please don't tell me you're proud of me for killing him," Richie's voice cracked. "I don't think I could stand that."

There was a short, awkward silence.

"Um. I think I'll go out and buy some beer." Adam decided.

"We have a whole fridge full of beer." Duncan pointed out.

"So, I'll buy some more."

"You'll come back?" Duncan asked. It was as much an order, as a request. They had things to discuss.

"Of course." Adam assured him.

"What's his problem?" Richie asked curiously, as soon as Adam had left.

"He's being tactful," Duncan raised a small smile. "I don't think he's had a lot of practise."

"Are you gonna yell at me?"

"No, but we do need to talk."

"Sounds like you're gonna  yell."

"Hush. Just listen. I've done a lot of things I'm not particularly proud of in my life. Killing Marc, wasn't exactly my most shining moment. He was young and stupid and didn't really deserve to die. But he'd had his chances and he proved he couldn't be trusted. Sometimes, a man has to do what he must to protect his family."

"Hey, c'mon Mac," Richie tried to reassure him. "We both know you didn't have any choice."

"So, can you understand that, I can hate the killing, and the necessity for it, but still be proud that you would make a stand to protect those you love?"

"That does make a weird kind of sense." Richie smiled at him.

"Hey, I'm a weird kind of dude." Duncan butted him fondly. Then he sighed.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"That line never works when I use it."

"When I took Walker's Quickening, well, I took some of his power, his memories," Duncan reminded him gently. "He's part of me now too."

"So?"

"So, I don't want you to feel uncomfortable with that."

"Oh," Richie considered that. "Did you learn anything about me that I hadn't already told you?"

"Well, no." Duncan realised. 

"Have you acquired any sudden urges to beat the hell outta me?." Richie cocked a brow.

"No more than usual." Duncan smiled ruefully,.

"See," Richie looked away. "That's why I love you."

"What did you say?" Duncan sat up a little straighter.

"You heard." Richie looked sideways at him.

"Say it again." Duncan nudged him fondly.

"Maac."

"Cos, otherwise I might think it was just the result of a drug induced rambling." Duncan teased.

"Hey, you're my Dad. Of course, I love you." Richie shrugged.

"What did you say?" Duncan blinked.

"Don't start with me, Mac."

"That's the third time you've called me that today." Duncan smiled.

"Then you don't need me to say it again."

"Aw c'mon Rich," Duncan wheedled. "I've been waiting a long time for this."

"Hey, was it my fault that I wasn't around for the first few centuries?" Richie protested. "I happen to think I'm worth waiting for."

"I bet you tell that to all the girls." Duncan grinned.

"You're not gonna kiss me, are you?"

"I'm your Dad," Duncan said proudly. "Its in the job description."

Richie sucked in his breath and looked away. 

"What did you call your Dad when you were a kid?"

"Dad." Duncan shrugged.

"Mac, I'm serious. There must have been some Gaelic word or something."

"There is," Duncan shrugged. "Dad. There are slight variations in Irish, Scottish or Welsh Gaelic, in Welsh in comes out as Tad, but its pretty much Dad."

"Oh." Richie looked crestfallen.

"You're still not very comfortable with Dad, huh?" Duncan recalled their previous conversation about the matter.

"I want to be," Richie squirmed. "And I am, sometimes. Its just, it reminds me of people like Walker. He made me call him Dad. He didn't care what I wanted. I  just thought if we could have something that was _ours_ .. it'd be different."

"You could use Vater," Duncan suggested. "That's German."

"Sounds like Vader," Richie grinned. "You gonna turn to the dark side, Mac?"

"Not if I can help it," Duncan smiled at him. "Alright, what about Padre? That's Italian."

"Makes you sound like a priest," Richie dismissed that. "I don't think Tess would be too pleased."

"None of your cheek, laddie. How about Pai? That's Portuguese."

"Pi? As in Math questions? How nerdy is that?" Richie shook his head.

Duncan sighed. This was proving more difficult that he had thought. "What about Polish?"

"Nasz?" Richie wrinkled his nose.

"Maybe not." Duncan sighed. Noting how tired and drawn the lad was looking he reached over and snagged a blanket from behind the couch.

"What are you doing?" Richie asked suspiciously

"Nothing," Duncan settled the pillow behind his head.

"Maaac." Richie rolled his eyes.

"You're gonna have to stop that." Duncan said smugly.

"Trust me," Richie scowled at him. "When you're being this annoying. You'll still be Mac."

"You need to rest. Give your body a chance to make up the blood loss." Duncan tucked the blanket over him.

"You said, I wasn't bleeding that badly." Richie protested half heartedly, his eyelids already drooping.

"You know, you never did tell me where you wanted to go on our Holiday?"  Duncan smiled at the sleepy teenager.

"Disneyland." Richie murmured.

"Really?" Duncan's heart sank. "You wouldn't rather go somewhere .. real?"

"Disneyland, is real." Richie closed his eyes as he snuggled into the pillow. "I've seen it on TV."

"I'll give you that," Duncan chuckled.  "Alright, but you're the one who gets to tell Tessa that we are going there this year instead of St Moritz."

Richie open one eye to regard him fuzzily. "I can do that, she's already gonna be mad enough at you that we have to leave Paris. Not to mention the whole lightshow thing."

"You heard that, huh?" Duncan stroked his hair.

"Do we have to tell her everything?" Richie wondered. "She's gonna be upset."

"I don't think we're going to have any choice Rich," Duncan frowned slightly. "I didn't know you could speak Russian?"

"I don't," Richie mumbled sleepily.

Duncan sighed as he tucked the blanket a little more securely around the now sleeping teen. "You do now."


	23. Chapter Twenty Three

AN – yep, still not finished.

***

"Will you stop that?" For at least the thousandth time in the last hour, Duncan slapped Richie's hand away. "It'll never heal if you keep scratching at it."

"It itches." Richie pouted.

"That's because you keep scratching it."

"I'm scratching it, because it itches."

"You're bored aren't you?" Duncan smiled, as he gently shoved the teenager's feet to one side, so he could sit on the coffee table.

"Gee Mac, how did you guess?" Richie scowled. "Could it have anything to do with the fact that you've barely let me move off this couch for the last three days?"

"How about a game of chess?"

"How about not?"

"We could watch a movie?"

"We could go outside and look at real people."

"A snack," Duncan decided. "You always want a snack."

"What I want, is a world where there is music composed by people born in this century, food that will clog all my arteries and girls. Lots of girls. And not necessarily in that order. Hey, stop laughing, I'm serious."

"I know you are. Sorry," Duncan didn't look remotely contrite. "Its just good to hear you sounding like yourself again."

"What?" Richie cocked a rueful brow. "Whining and complaining? 

"Making me laugh. You've had a hard time of it"

"It hasn't all been bad," Richie allowed. "You, in particular, you've been pretty cool. Especially, with the nightmares and all."

Richie had woken them both up that first night with nightmares of killing. Richie killing Walker, Walker killing Richie or Walker killing Mac. Duncan had crawled out of bed, to soothe his distressed cries several times before he simply tucked the exhausted lad in beside him. There had been no more nightmares, after that. So, for the last couple of nights, he had been sleeping with Duncan, until they were sure Walker was laid to rest.

"Hey," Duncan mussed his hair gently. "What's family for?"

"Yeah," Richie gave him that rare, gentle, bashful, smile. "I'm getting that."

"I take it you're feeling better, all round?" Duncan asked, lightly.

"Yeah, I think so. Just me in here now," He gave a rueful smile. "Well, kinda. What with the speaking Russian and all."

"It doesn't change who you are Rich," Duncan reminded him. "It just makes you stronger."

"If I'm stronger," Richie seized on that. "Then I should be able to go out."

"How about we go out for lunch?" Duncan offered. "That little café, you like in the Latin Quarter?"

"You mean it?" Richie sat up a little straighter, as his face lit up. "Really?"

"Sure," Duncan patted his leg. "It'll be something for you to look forward to."

"Look, forward to?" Richie repeated slowly.

"Tomorrow," Duncan gave him a tight grin, as he stood up. "For now, how about a nice bowl of soup?"

"Maac!"

"I could always make it gruel," Duncan moved towards the galley. "Build you up some."

"I feel fine now!" Richie called after him.

"Then you'll feel even better when we go out .. tomorrow." Duncan retorted sweetly.

***

"How has he been?" Darius asked, his voice coming slightly tinnily down the phone line.

"Not quite as good as he keeps trying to convince me, he is,"  Darius could hear the shrug in his voice. "Although, I think we're over the worst of it. But that wasn't why I was calling."

"I'm afraid my first suspicions were correct, my friend," Darius tone was regretful. "There's been no sign of him."

"He can't just have disappeared off the face of the earth," Duncan protested. "He only went out for some beer."

"Did he say when he'd be back?" Darius asked meaningfully.

"Why?" Duncan paused. "Has he done this sort of thing before?"

"Frequently. Don't concern yourself Duncan. If he went to all this trouble to make himself known to you, then you will see him again. When the time is right."

"For him or for me?" Duncan groused.

"Either," Darius counted smoothly. "Is that not the root of all friendships?"

Duncan put down the phone feeling oddly disconcerted by the phone call. It wasn't as if he thought that Adam was a threat, not as such. He'd hardly have let him be so free with Richie if Darius hadn't offered his assurances on that, but he couldn't help feel that there was more to him that met the eye.

He wondered if he would ever find out what it was.

"So, what did Darius say?" Richie returned from his trip to the bathroom, his only permitted excursion right now. "Has the good ole Doc done a disappearing act then?"

"Looks that way," Duncan tried to unobtrusively assess Richie's condition. His colour looked good and the short walk seemed to have had no ill effects. Maybe things were getting back to normal.

"Mac, who is Zoser?"

Or maybe not.

"He was an Egyptian Pharaoh, a King to you, in about 2630 BC." Duncan explained.

"Wow, that's pretty old." Richie looked awed.

"Rich, Walker wasn't anywhere that old. We looked him up. It much just be a memory, or something he read."

"Not Walker, Adam," Richie surprised him. "He said he was his Doctor, Imyhopty or something."

"Imhotep?" Duncan blinked. "He told you he was Imhotep? Rich, that would make him almost 5000 years old."

Richie had no clue about the significance of that.

"Yeah, well. Newsflash, Mac. He's an Immortal. I thought you'd noticed already." Richie grinned at him.

"Oh, that I knew." Duncan suddenly felt like he needed a drink.

A very large one.

***  
"This is such a nice day, look at that sky, those birds, those ladies …" Richie turned around to drool, only to have Duncan seize him by the collar and tug him onwards. "Aw, c'mon Mac," he pleaded, still looking at the two cute blondes, in short, short skirts, who were smiling at him. "I'm like a thirsty guy passing an oasis here."

"We can't stop and chat to Bambo and Bimbi," Duncan told him. "We'll be late."

"So," Richie reluctantly let himself be pulled along. Not that he had much choice. "This is France. Late is a way of life."

"What?" Duncan stopped and made eye contact with him. "You're not hungry?"

"Oh yeah," Richie looked longingly back over his shoulder in the direction of the girls. "I'm hungry, alright."

"We're meeting someone."

"We are?" Richie's head snapped around. This was the first he had heard of it. "Um. Mac. This isn't like a blind date, is it?"

"Well, I don't much like the look of yours," Duncan chuckled, as they turned the corner and the small café came into sight. As expected, their dinner guests were already seated at the pavement table.

"Tessa!" Richie's face lit up as she stood up to greet him with a kiss on the cheek, that made him blush a warm pink, before pulling back, leaving a hand on each shoulder to search his face.

"How are you?"

"I'm good," Richie assured her earnestly, with a small smile. "Mac's made sure of it."

"And so he should," Tessa released him to plant a rather longer, and deeper kiss on her lover. "He knows what is good for him."

"Indeed, he does." Duncan agreed, his voice a little hoarse with passion.

"For Lord's sake, Duncan," the other person at the table protested. "Its only been a few weeks. You've gone decades without a ladies, ahem, company, before now."

"You have?" Richie blinked at him.

"I was a monk," Duncan scowled, none too fondly, at his teacher, over Tessa's shoulder. "It was in the job description."

"You? A monk?" Tessa giggled.

"Did you have one of those holes in your head?" Richie asked, far too innocently for Duncan's taste.

"Its called a tonsure, laddie, and its on your head, not in it."

"I can't believe you guys are here." Richie grinned as he sat down. "You couldn't have said you were coming home?"

"Then it wouldn't have been a surprise." Connor pointed out.

"And," Tessa gave her lover an impish smile. "We couldn't miss Mac's birthday."

"Birthday?" Richie blinked. "Its your birthday? You never said. When?"

"Oh, sometime in the 16th Century. I thought I told you that already?" Duncan grinned.

***

"He doesn't seem to have suffered any ill effects from the Quickening." Connor accepted the glass, looking back over at Richie as he slept on the couch. For all his protests  that he was "just fine" he had flaked out the moment they got home. Still, the two burgers, large portion of chips, and towering ice cream sundae he had consumed were comforting evidence that he was feeling better.

"After that incident with that waiter spilling soup in his lap, Tessa might not agree." Duncan said dryly.

"Richie could swear in French before he took Walker's head. He can just do it more fluently now. Has he acquired any other skills?"

"At the last count, he could speak Russian and Italian, he actually understood some of my arias, the other day."

"We'll get some culture into the lad yet."

"I never said he liked it."

"And?" Connor asked the thorny question. "Have you tried him with a blade?"

"I have not," Duncan said shortly. "No more will you. Twas a foolish indulgence to allow him to put his hand to a sword in the first place. He was lucky this time. Walker's blade didn't do half as much harm as it might have. Next time, he might not be so lucky."

"Oh?" Connor's tone was deceptively mild, as he sighed inwardly. He had been expecting this. Of course, Duncan would blame himself  for Richie's injury.

"He's already born late to the game Connor," In deference to the sleeping teen, Duncan kept his voice low, but the pent up anger in his tone came across clearly. "He can't afford any further disadvantages. Accidents happen. What if, he had damaged muscle or bone beyond repair? T'would be akin to a death sentence."

"Duncan, you weren't responsible for what Walker did to him. That had its roots in a time long before Richie met you."

"But I was supposed to protect him, I was supposed to keep him safe and I failed him. Twice." Duncan's voice cracked.

"You couldn't have known Walker would take him from the barge. You thought he was dead," Connor dismissed that. "And you'd never have killed Marc if he hadn't turned on Risteard. You _were _protecting him, Duncan. It wasn't your fault that Walker had no honour."

"Still .." Duncan looked over at the sleeping teen, pain clear in his eyes.

"You can't protect him from the Game, kinsman," Connor told him softly. "You can only love him soundly, so he has a reason to live. And teach him well, so he has the ability to live."

"But .." Duncan looked up. "He's too young yet. And not one of us. You said so yourself. That's not the way we do things."

"Duncan," Connor allowed himself a small chuckle. "You have a pre-immortal, who knows exactly what he is and what he will be, with full knowledge of Immortals and the Game, not to mention a thread of a Quickening. I'm not our traditions are relevant anymore."

"You think I should teach him?" Duncan blinked.

"You do have an advantage over Walker," Connor shrugged. "To men like us, a sword is no sport. Your father taught you that it was a weapon to defend yourself, but also to kill if need be. He put you to the sword as soon as you were strong enough to life it. Did he ever harm you in practise?"

"Ah course not," Duncan looked shocked by the very idea.

"And when you were older and he put you to teaching the striplings of the Clan, did you ever hurt them with a careless parry or a wild cut?"

"A fighting man in practise has a duty to be careful," Duncan recited. "You know that."

"So, teach Risteard as your father taught you."

Duncan considered that. A myriad of emotions flickering across his face.

"He never taught me to kill in the way of our kind." 

"I think yon laddie has already worked that one out for himself." Connor said dryly.

***

Richie flopped on the couch and sighed heavily, three times, put his feet up on the coffee table, put them down again, sighed again.

Biting back a smile, Connor waited a full five minutes before he looked up from his book.

"Something wrong?"

 "I thought I'd found Mac, the best present ever for his birthday. This little silver kilt pin, in the shape of a sword, but  .."

"He already has one." Connor nodded.

"Yeah," Richie sighed. "What do you get for the man who has everything?"

 "Well. I found a watercolour, a landscape of the Highlands, by a young Scottish artist, that I think will appeal to him."

"See, I don't know anything, about art and stuff," Richie complained. "I bet if I brought Mac some piece of art that I like, he'd secretly hate it."

"Risteard, he'd love it, simply because you gave it to him, you know that."

"I'd rather he loved it, because he actually loved it.."

"What about a new shirt?" Connor suggested. "An Immortal can never have too many shirts."

"I know, I think Tess must have bought him at least six."

"I'll warrant yours would be different," Connor didn't try to hide his amusement at the very idea of Duncan in a shirt that Richie had picked out for him.

"He'll be getting a musical haggis, at this rate." Richie glowered.

"If you could even find such a monstrosity in Paris," Connor huffed. "I'd teach you swordplay myself."

"You would?" Richie looked up eagerly. "Cos, Mac said I had to wait a while. But you're his teacher, right? So, he can't boss you."

Somehow, Connor doubted that Duncan would see it that way. At all. Still, he thought he saw safe enough.

"Risteard, Paris is a city of culture. You could never find such a thing here."

"Yeah, like the plastic souvenir Eiffel Towers are so classy."

"Have you thought of buying him a book?" Connor changed the subject.

"That was the first thing I thought of," Richie sighed. "But some guy named Fitz already sent him, this parcel by registered mail that I'm pretty sure is some kind of first edition."

"What about socks, or aftershave?" Connor shrugged.

"Yeah, right. Maybe if he was a normal Dad .." Richie scoffed.

Then his eyes widened.

"Of course, that's it! I can't believe I didn't think about it before!"

"You're going to buy him a pipe and slippers?" Connor teased.

"No. Besides, he already has slippers," Richie pointed out, already shrugging into his coat. "Later."

"Don't slam the .." Connor began. "Door." He ended lamely, as Richie closed the door behind him, with enough force to rock the barge on its moorings.


	24. Chapter Twenty Four

AN – Finally finished! Thanks to everyone who has stuck with this, I'm honoured to have received  so many reviews, and emails, and prompts and nags and ideas, I love to write, and would probably do it anyway, but it makes all the difference when you sit down at the computer at the end of a really long day to know that other people are enjoying it too. So Thank You All Very Much! For those who have been asking, I will finished AC and R and I have three new stories in the works!

***

"I'm telling you Tess," Duncan chopped the onions a little more fiercely than necessary. "Those two are up to something."

"Of course they are," Tessa surprised him. "Its your birthday."

"Oh come on," Duncan put the knife down. "Connor's had Centuries of practice at sneaking about. This isn't just some balloons and a cake."

"You don't know this. It is no easy thing to surprise a four hundred year old man."

"Oh, I don't know," Duncan arched a brow. "You always seem to manage."

"Duncan!" she laughed, blushing slightly at his implication. "This is not what I meant!"

"Seriously though, Tess, something is going on," Duncan insisted. "Every time I see them they have their heads together and they always change the subject when I appear."

"So, why don't you just ask them?"

"Because then they'll think I don't trust them."

"You don't." Tessa smirked.

"I trust them with my life," Duncan protested. "Just .. please tell me there's not going to be a surprise party where I have to dress up as Mel Gibson or something."

"No party," Tessa assured him. "Just a nice quiet family lunch at home."

"So," Duncan's voice took on a decidedly more calculating edge. "You do know what they are up to."

"Duncan!" Tessa protested, not sure whether to be angry or amused that he had manipulated her so neatly. "You will just have to be patient. Surely after four hundred years you can do this."

"Of course, I can," Duncan agreed, seizing her around the waist and pulling her close. "I just don't want to."

"Well, we can't always have what we want." Tessa laughed as she tried to push him away.

"Are you sure," Duncan leaned in to nibble on her ear. "That there is nothing I can do to persuade you?"

"Well," Tessa smiled. "You can certainly try."

"Maybe later," Duncan sighed, as he pulled back, just before Richie bounded into the room. "Hey, guys, guess what ..?" He trailed off, looking at them entwined in each others arms. "Um. Never mind."

He turned on his heel, about to make a swift exit, when Duncan's voice stopped him.

"I thought you wanted to talk to us."

"Yeah," Richie kept his back to them. "But it can wait. I mean, you guys haven't spent nearly enough time together lately, you gotta have .. stuff to do."

"You know," Duncan said conversationally. "He's right, we haven't spent enough time together lately. What we need is a vacation."

"Yeah, sure, I mean, I can look after things here." Richie tried to keep the hurt he felt out of his voice. Mac had just babysat him 24/7 for more than two weeks. It was only fair that Tessa got to spend some time with him. It wasn't Mac's fault that he'd kinda gotten to like the undivided attention.

"No you can't." Duncan shook his head.

"Hey, c'mon Mac," Richie protested, finally turning to face them.  "I can do responsible."

"You can't look after things here, because your coming with us, .. Tough Guy." Duncan corrected.

"I am?" Richie felt a flush of relief.  Then he paused. "Um. Where are we going?"

"Duncan says it is a icon for twentieth century culture." Tessa hid a smile.

"A cultural icon? You mean like to Art Galleries and Museums and the like?" Richie paled. "Mac, that's not a vacation. That's school."

"Actually, I was thinking more of .. Disneyland." Duncan told him.

"Disneyland!" Richie's face lit up with joy. " Are you serious? You guys want to go to Disney?"

"We certainly do." Tessa affirmed.

 "Oh man, this is so great!" Richie enthused. "I've always wanted to go there. But I would never imagine you guys thinking of going to a place like that."

The amused look that passed between Duncan and Tessa went right over his head.

"Um," Richie bit his lip. "Which one?"

"Which one what?" Tessa blinked.

"Which Disney ?" Richie asked. "I mean, the one outside of Paris, you know the Resort thingy, I mean I'm sure its great and everything .. and there Disneyland in California but .."

"Relax Tough Guy," Duncan assured him. "We're going to Florida. Next week, if you feel up to it."

"Disneyworld? Next week?" Richie yipped. "Oh man, I gotta pack. Then I gotta phone Angie. Just wait till she hears I'm gonna meet Micky." 

"Are you going to tell him?" Tessa asked when the excited teen had left the room.

"What? That's it's the middle of the night in Seacouver?" Duncan grinned. "No, I'm sure Angie will."

"No. That it was actually his idea."

"Aw, c'mon Tess. You saw his face. I bet this is something he's dreamt of since he was a babe. He probably would never have told me about it if he wasn't half delirious at the time. He'd think he was too old or something.."

"Too old." Tessa shook her head. "He's just a boy. He is not ready to join your Game. To be Immortal."

"Hopefully, he won't have to for a long time yet." Duncan soothed, even as he deftly changed the subject. "Are you sure you don't mind not going to St Moritiz?"

"Of course not, we can always go some other time."

"Or we could go to blizzard beach," Duncan suggested mischievously. "Its almost the same."

"Oh, you," Tessa slapped him on the chest. "It is a small price to pay. I don't think I have ever seen him so happy. It is like we have granted all his heart's desires."

"Which begs, the question, love," Duncan nuzzled her close. "What in the world are we going to get him for Christmas?"

"We have your birthday, to celebrate first."

"Which reminds me," Duncan moved a little closer. "Where was I?"

***

It had seemed like such a good idea at the time, Richie thought, but now the moment was at hand he was scared out of his mind. The smooth Ardennes pate stuck in his throat, the succulent Duck a l'Orange tasted like sawdust in his mouth and the rich chocolate mousse had to be forced down, teaspoon by teaspoon, so Mac wouldn't tell how nervous he was.

"It'll be fine." Connor murmured around his wine glass. "You'll see."

Richie hoped so. Connor had known Mac for almost four centuries. If he said it was fine, surely he couldn't be wrong?

Even so, when it came time to give presents Richie hesitated as Connor gave Duncan with an ornate dagger that apparently had some sort of ceremonial significance and a fine Malt. Then Tessa gave him several expensive silk shirts and cashmere sweaters, as well as a heavy quartz watch and a promise of more surprises .. later on. Mac even opened the square flat package from Fitz, that turned out not to be a book at all, but a scrapbook of rather saucy postcards.

"You call that Art?" Tessa sniffed.

"Age adds Antiquity." Connor shrugged.

Then everyone looked, expectantly, at Richie.

"Risteard?" Connor prompted gently.

"Um," Richie swallowed hard. He really hoped this was the right idea. "Mine's just this."

Duncan looked at the small box that Richie had wrapped it in newspaper and tied with a simple black ribbon. It looked surprisingly stylish.

"Very chic." He complimented.

"Mac, just open the box will you?" Richie pleaded.

"Alright, see, I'm opening," Duncan soothed, pulling at the end of the ribbon and opened the box, not quite sure what to expect. Some sort of pin, perhaps, maybe a silver hair tie. The single diamond earring that glinted up at him from the black velvet took his breath away.

"Richie .."

"You haven't been wearing your old one, since our little swim in the tunnels .."

"It must have fallen out." Duncan hadn't given it a second thought. The diamond was nothing to him compared to the lad's safety..

"I figured as much," Richie nodded. "And since that was my fault .."

"Hey, it was not your fault," Duncan cut in. "That wasn't even Walker's fault. It was just an accident."

"Yeah, well," Richie shrugged. "You told me once, that you'd lose the earring and make like a normal guy, if it would help you seem like a better Dad. I guess, I just wanted to say, that you don't gotta. Cos you're a diamond kinda guy, already. The best. And I couldn't wish for a better Dad."

All Duncan's protestations that it was too expensive a gift, were swept away by that simple statement. Indeed, he wasn't sure that he could speak at all.

"Thank you, lad."

"um. There's more," Hesitantly, Richie pulled the thick cream envelope out of his jacket pocket, wordlessly offering it to the Immortal.

"More?" Duncan shook his head.

"This didn't cost the lad anything." Connor put in. "Not in the way you mean."

"And, I think you will like it." Tessa beamed at him.

Duncan felt unusually nervous as he opened the envelope. His heart caught in his throat as he looked at the sheets of cream paper. "Adoption papers?" he looked up at Richie. 

"Its all legal," Richie assured him. "Connor did it. From now on, I'm officially Richard Ryan Macleod. I have a new passport and everything."

"Oh Rich," Duncan managed.

"La Breith Sona, Da." Richie recited the Gaelic carefully as Connor had taught him. _Happy Birthday Dad_

"What did you say?" Duncan blinked, not at all sure he'd heard right.

"It is what you wanted, right?" Richie suddenly looked very vulnerable.

"Aye," Duncan stood up and pulled him into a hug. "More than anything, my bonnie lad."

"I think this calls for a toast." Connor reached for the Malt.

 "I thought that was my present." Duncan protested over Richie's head.

"It is," Connor agreed. "But tis the custom of the Clan for the father to provide a dram or two to wet the bairn's head."

"Hey, its not like I'm a baby." Richie protested.

"Did I say you couldn't have any?" Connor countered smoothly. "Although, this is pretty strong stuff. Maybe you should ask your Da."

"Can I Da? Please?" Richie grinned at him.

"Well, I suppose it is a special occasion." Duncan tousled his hair.

When both the glasses were charged, Connor smiled at his family, and saluted Richie gently with the bottle.

"To Richard Ryan Macleod, of the Clan Macleod."

They drank.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Richie pulled a squishy parcel out from under the table. "I got this for you, Connor, to thank you for all your help."

Duncan wondered why his kinsman's face paled as he accepted the parcel. But he soon knew why, as Connor pulled out a small, brown, furry, object, dressed in a little kilt and highland bonnet, standing on two black felt feet.

"How?" Connor managed over a suddenly dry throat.

"You press here," Richie said, gleefully, pushing at the small creature's stomach. The strains of Mull of Kintyre sounded tinnily as the creature stomped its little feet in time to the music.

"I'd say that warrants prise of place, in your collection, kinsman." Duncan was spluttering with laughter.

"Where ever did you find such a thing, Richie?" Tessa asked.

"In Paris." Richie said smugly.

"You dinna." If possible Connor looked even paler.

Duncan's eyes narrowed.

"You can buy just about anything on the Internet," Richie declared gleefully. "I never even had to leave my room."

***

"Alright," As soon as he could Duncan took Connor aside. Which was not as soon as he would have liked. Connor was definitely trying to avoid him. "Are you going to tell me what that was all about?"

"You wouldn't just believe that the lad wanted to buy his Uncle Connor a present?"

"Connor."

"Alright," Connor sighed. "I told him that if he found one of those musical monstrosities in Paris I'd put him to the sword myself."

"No," Duncan's tone was flat, resolute. "Absolutely not."

"I gave him my word." Connor tried to make his kinsman see reason.

"You made him a foolish promise, on a wager you didn't think he'd deliver." Duncan corrected.

"And you've never underestimated the lad?" Connor challenged.

"Alright, I'll give you that," Duncan agreed. "But you're older than I am."

"You forgot wiser."

"No," Duncan gave his teacher a meaningful look. "I did not."

"Alright, so the lad took me for a fool," Connor agreed. "But the fact remains that I gave him my word. You wouldn't want to make a liar out of me would you?"

"I won't have to. I never said you couldn't teach him," Duncan pointed out. "I just want you to wait a few decades. He's not ready yet."

"Are you quite sure about that?" Connor murmured, glancing out of the porthole.

"What?" Duncan took two long strides to join his kinsman. "Oh no .." He turned on his heel, towards the door, only to find himself stopped by a firm grip on his arm.

"Duncan, just watch." Connor commanded.

Standing on the quay Richie was wielding the Katana with a studied awe. Holding the blade at a respectful arms length as he carefully drew it through a series of complex cuts and parries, watching his arm trace flawlessly through the graceful movements as if it belonged to someone else.

"Those moves are Walker's," Connor commented. "But the grace is your lad's alone."

"He is good, isn't he?" Duncan murmured.

"You've a right to be proud of him, kinsman. A lesser man would not have endured these last few weeks nearly as well."

"No." Duncan agreed. "I know I couldn't, not at his age."

Coming to a decision, he strode over to a blanket box in the corner and lifted its lid to reveal a light oak wooden box. From out of the box he took a Spanish rapier, with a golden hilt and a blade of Toledo steel.

***

 Duncan deliberately made a bit of ostentatious noise as he made his way across the quay. It was never a good idea to sneak up on a man wielding a sword.

"Da," Caught in the act, Richie lowered the blade at his approach, casting his eyes about for some legitimate excuse. "Um. I was just getting the feel of it?"

Nervously, he offered the Katana, hilt first, back to its owner.

"And?" Duncan asked, making no move to take the blade, hiding a smile at the lad's mode of address. "How does it feel?"

"Um," Richie flushed slightly, unnerved by this approach. "Actually, it's a little heavy."

"It will be at first," At last, Duncan reached out to take the Katana, but slowly, respectfully, like one warrior to another and tucked it inside his coat. "Give it a few years and you'll be fine."

Duncan gave him an encouraging smile.

"I'm sorry," Richie felt a little flustered, and not quite sure what he was apologising for. After all, Mac had never actually said he couldn't touch the Katana.

"Perhaps, this would suit you better," From behind his back Duncan produced the thin, golden rapier. "At least, for now."

"Mac." Richie faltered.

He remembered Mac buying this sword. They had driven across state to a tiny, stuffy, little private auction room. Richie had fussed about the heat and the lack of food and whether or not he would be home in time for his date and Mac had supplied, water and hamburgers and reassurance in equal measure. He had had Richie hold the sword, to test its weight and balance he'd said. Then, apparently satisfied, he had stood and outbid everyone in the room, until, for a sum that still made Richie's mind boggle, the sword was bought.

"Was it really worth coming all this way and paying all that much?" He'd asked on the way home.

"Yes," Duncan had been adamant. "A man needs a good sword and a blade like that, doesn't come up for sale often."

"But you've already got zillions of swords." Richie had protested.

Mac had given him one of those unreadable looks and deftly changed the subject.

"You bought it for me?" Richie managed now. "But I thought .. you said .. I was too young."

"Rich, in the last few weeks, you've sacrificed yourself to keep Tessa safe from Walker, you risked your life to save mine, you faced your demons and bested Walker. I think that makes you old enough."

"Its not like I'm that much older than last month when you told me I wasn't old enough." Richie smiled shyly.

"Aye well," Duncan reached out and put a hand under his chin. "In the Clan you're not a man until your father tells you you're a man. Well, you're a fine man Richie Ryan Macleod, and I'm proud to have you as my son. You've earnt this."

Duncan took a step back and formally offered the blade, across his arm. A tangible symbol of regard.

In awe, Richie took the blade.

"Will you teach me, Da?"

Duncan wondered how long it would be before he could refuse the lad anything when he called him that. A few centuries at least.

"I wouldn't have it any other way." Duncan vowed.


End file.
